r      LIBRARY 
University  at 
California 
Irvine 


f 


BY 

STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF.  A  Romance. 
With  Frontispiece  and  Vignette  by  CHARLES 
KERR.  i2mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE.  Being  the  Me- 
moirs of  Gaston  de  Bonne,  Sieur  de  Marsac. 
With  Frontispiece  and  Vignette  by  J.  D.  FORD. 
I2tno,  cloth,  $1.25. 

UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE.  With  twelve  full- 
page  Illustrations  by  R.  CATON  WOODVILLE. 
I2mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

MY  LADY  ROTHA.  A  Romance  of  the  Thirty 
Years'  War.  With  eight  Illustrations.  i2mo, 
cloth,  $1.25. 


New  York:    LONGMANS,   GREEN,   &  Co. 


"You  seem  surprised  to  see  me  here.     .     .     ."—p.  174. 


UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE 


V 


STANLEY  J.  \yEYMAN 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF,"  "A  GENTLEMAN  OF 
FRANCE,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND    CO. 
i89j 


053 


>     COPYRIGHT,  1894, 
BY  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN. 


FIRST  EDITION,  MARCH,  1894. 

REPRINTED  APRIL,  AUGUST,  OCTOBER  AND  DECEMBER,  18 
FEBRUARY,  1895. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGH 

I.    AT  ZATON'S       ........  i 

II.    AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR 27 

III.  THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD 53 

IV.  MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE 78 

V.     REVENGE 102 

VI.    UNDER  THE  Pic  DU  MIDI 127 

VII.    A  MASTER  STROKE 153 

VIII.    THE  QUESTION 178 

IX.    CLON 204 

X.    THE  ARREST 231 

XI.    THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS         .        .        .        .        .        .  259 

XII.      AT  THE   FINGER-POST 284 

XIII.  ST.  MARTIN'S  EVE 311 

XIV.  ST.  MARTIN'S  SUMMER 325 

v 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"  YOU    SEEM    SURPRISED    TO    SEE   ME    HERE  ;    BELIEVE    ME, 

I  AM  MORE  SURPRISED  TO  SEE  YOU  "        Frontispiece 

"UNDOUBTEDLY,"   I   REPLIED,  "IF  HE  PREFERS  TO  BE 

CANED  IN  THE  STREETS  "...          To  face  page     3 

I     MADE    WITHOUT    ADO,    THEREFORE,    FOR     THE     GREEN 

PILLAR,  A  LITTLE  INN  IN  THE  VILLAGE  STREET        .       28 
"  I  AM  M.  DE  BARTHE,  A  GENTLEMAN  OF  NORMANDY".      71 

"You    SPY!"    SHE    CRIED.      "  You    HOUND!     You — 

GENTLEMAN  !  " 98 

OUTSIDE  THE  DOOR,  IN  THE  ROAD,  SITTING  ON  HORSE- 
BACK IN  SILENCE,  WERE  TWO  MEN  .  .  .  .  I2O 

ONE  OF  THE  MEN  WHO  REMAINED  AT  THE  TABLE 
LAUGHED,  AND  THE  OTHER  BEGAN  SINGING  A  LOW 
SONG 155 

THE  CAPTAIN  AND  THE  LIEUTENANT  WERE  WAITING. 
.  .  .  THE  CAPTAIN  HAD  REMOVED  HIS  DOUBLET, 
AND  STOOD  LEANING  AGAINST  THE  SUN-DIAL  .  .  IQO 

I    SPRANG   THROUGH    THE   LINE   OF   SOLDIERS      .  .  .      213 

"MY  GOD!"    I  CRIED 238 

"  YOU  VILLAIN  ! "    HE  CRIED,  RIDING  AT  ME  AGAIN        .     276 
STARING  AFTER  ME  ACROSS  HER  BODY     .        .        .        .310 


UNDER  THE   RED   ROBE. 


CHAPTER    I. 
AT  ZATON'S. 

"  MARKED  cards  !  " 

There  were  a  score  round  us  when  the  fool, 
little  knowing  the  man  with  whom  he  had  to 
deal,  and  as  little  how  to  lose  like  a  gentleman, 
flung  the  words  in  my  teeth.  He  thought,  I'll 
be  sworn,  that  I  should  storm  and  swear  and 
ruffle  it  like  any  common  cock  of  the  hackle. 
But  that  was  never  Gil  de  Berault's  way.  For  a 
few  seconds  after  he  had  spoken  I  did  not  even 
look  at  him.  I  passed  my  eye  instead  —  smiling, 
bien  entendu  —  round  the  ring  of  waiting  faces, 
saw  that  there  was  no  one  except  De  Pombal  I 
had  cause  to  fear ;  and  then  at  last  I  rose  and 
looked  at  the  fool  with  the  grim  face  I  have 
known  impose  on  older  and  wiser  men. 

i  B 


2  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"Marked  cards,  M.  1'Anglais?"  I  said,  with  a 
chilling  sneer.  "They  are  used,  I  am  told,  to 
trap  players  —  not  unbirched  schoolboys." 

"Yet  I  say  that  they  are  marked!"  he  replied 
hotly,  in  his  queer  foreign  jargon.  "In  my  last 
hand  I  had  nothing.  You  doubled  the  stakes. 
Bah,  Sir,  you  knew !  You  have  swindled  me  ! " 

"Monsieur  is  easy  to  swindle  —  when  he  plays 
with  a  mirror  behind  him,"  I  answered  tartly. 
And  at  that  there  was  a  great  roar  of  laughter, 
which  might  have  been  heard  in  the  street,  and 
which  brought  to  the  table  every  one  in  the 
eating-house  whom  his  violence  had  not  already 
attracted.  But  I  did  not  relax  my  face.  I  waited 
until  all  was  quiet  again,  and  then  waving  aside 
two  or  three  who  stood  between  us  and  the  en- 
trance, I  pointed  gravely  to  the  door.  "There  is 
a  little  space  behind  the  church  of  St.  Jacques, 
M.  1'Etranger,"  I  said,  putting  on  my  hat  and 
taking  my  cloak  on  my  arm.  "Doubtless  you 
will  accompany  me  thither  ?  " 

He  snatched  up  his  hat,  his  face  burning  with 
shame  and  rage.  "  With  pleasure ! "  he  blurted 
out.  "  To  the  devil,  if  you  like  !  " 


04 

3 


•3 


AT  ZATON^S.  3 

I  thought  the  matter  arranged,  when  the  Mar- 
quis laid  his  hand  on  the  young  fellow's  arm 
and  checked  him.  "This  must  not  be,"  he  said, 
turning  from  him  to  me  with  his  grand  fine- 
gentleman's  air.  "You  know  me,  M.  de  Berault. 
This  matter  has  gone  far  enough." 

"  Too  far,  M.  de  Pombal ! "  I  answered  bitterly. 
"  Still,  if  you  wish  to  take  the  gentleman's  place, 
I  shall  raise  no  objection." 

"  Chut,  man  !  "  he  retorted,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders negligently.  "  I  know  you,  and  I  do  not  fight 
with  men  of  your  stamp.  Nor  need  this  gentle- 
man." 

"Undoubtedly,"  I  replied,  bowing  low,  "if  he 
prefers  to  be  caned  in  the  streets." 

That  stung  the  Marquis.  "  Have  a  care !  have 
a  care ! "  he  cried  hotly.  "  You  go  too  far,  M. 
Berault." 

"De  Berault,  if  you  please,"  I  objected,  eyeing 
him  sternly.  "  My  family  has  borne  the  de  as  long 
as  yours,  M.  de  Pombal." 

He  could  not  deny  that,  and  he  answered,  "  As 
you  please " ;  at  the  same  time  restraining  his 
friend  by  a  gesture.  "  But  none  the  less,  take  my 

B  2 


4  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

advice,"  he  continued.  "  The  Cardinal  has  forbid- 
den duelling,  and  this  time  he  means  it !  You 
have  been  in  trouble  once  and  gone  free.  A 
second  time  it  may  fare  worse  with  you.  Let  this 
gentleman  go,  therefore,  M.  de  Berault.  Besides 
—  why,  shame  upon  you,  man ! "  he  exclaimed 
hotly ;  "  he  is  but  a  lad !  " 

Two  or  three  who  stood  behind  me  applauded 
that.  But  I  turned  and  they  met  my  eye ;  and 
they  were  as  mum  as  mice.  "  His  age  is  his  own 
concern,"  I  said  grimly.  "He  was  old  enough  a 
while  ago  to  insult  me." 

"And  I  will  prove  my  words!"  the  lad  cried, 
exploding  at  last.  He  had  spirit  enough,  and  the 
Marquis  had  had  hard  work  to  restrain  him  so 
long.  "  You  do  me  no  service,  M.  de  Pombal,"  he 
continued,  pettishly  shaking  off  his  friend's  hand. 
"  By  your  leave,  this  gentleman  and  I  will  settle 
this  matter." 

"That  is  better,"  I  said,  nodding  drily,  while 
the  Marquis  stood  aside,  frowning  and  baffled. 
"Permit  me  to  lead  the  way." 

Zaton's  eating-house  stands  scarcely  a  hundred 
paces  from  St.  Jacques  la  Boucherie,  and  half  the 


AT  Z ATONES.  5 

company  went  thither  with  us.  The  evening  was 
wet,  the  light  in  the  streets  was  waning,  the 
streets  themselves  were  dirty  and  slippery.  There 
were  few  passers  in  the  Rue  St.  Antoine ;  and 
our  party,  which  earlier  in  the  day  must  have 
attracted  notice  and  a  crowd,  crossed  unmarked, 
and  entered  without  interruption  the  paved  trian- 
gle which  lies  immediately  behind  the  church.  I 
saw  in  the  distance  one  of  the  Cardinal's  guard 
loitering  in  front  of  the  scaffolding  round  the 
new  Hotel  Richelieu ;  and  the  sight  of  the  uni- 
form gave  me  pause  for  a  moment.  But  it  was 
too  late  to  repent. 

The  Englishman  began  at  once  to  strip  off  his 
clothes.  I  closed  mine  to  the  throat,  for  the  air 
was  chilly.  At  that  moment,  while  we  stood  pre- 
paring and  most  of  the  company  seemed  a  little 
inclined  to  stand  off  from  me,  I  felt  a  hand  on 
my  arm,  and,  turning,  saw  the  dwarfish  tailor  at 
whose  house  in  the  Rue  Savonnerie  I  lodged  at 
the  time.  The  fellow's  presence  was  unwelcome, 
to  say  the  least  of  it ;  and  though  for  want  of 
better  company  I  had  sometimes  encouraged  him 
to  be  free  with  me  at  home,  I  took  that  to  be  no 


6  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

reason  why  I  should  be  plagued  with  him  before 
gentlemen.  I  shook  him  off,  therefore,  hoping 
by  a  frown  to  silence  him. 

He  was  not  to  be  so  easily  put  down,  however. 
And  perforce  I  had  to  speak  to  him.  "After- 
wards, afterwards,"  I  said.  "  I  am  engaged  now." 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't,  Sir ! "  was  the  poor 
fool's  answer.  "  Don't  do  it !  You  will  bring  a 
curse  on  the  house.  He  is  but  a  lad,  and  — " 

"  You,  too  !  "  I  exclaimed,  losing  patience.  "  Be 
silent,  you  scum  !  What  do  you  know  about  gen- 
tlemen's quarrels  ?  Leave  me  ;  do  you  hear  ? " 

"  But  the  Cardinal ! "  he  cried  in  a  quavering 
voice.  "  The  Cardinal,  M.  de  Berault  ?  The  last 
man  you  killed  is  not  forgotten  yet.  This  time 
he  will  be  sure  to  — " 

"  Do  you  hear  ? "  I  hissed.  The  fellow's  im- 
pudence passed  all  bounds.  It  was  as  bad  as  his 
croaking.  "  Begone  ! "  I  said.  "  I  suppose  you  are 
afraid  he  will  kill  me,  and  you  will  lose  your  money  ? " 

Prison  fell  back  at  that  almost  as  if  I  had  struck 
him,  and  I  turned  to  my  adversary,  who  had 
been  awaiting  my  motions  with  impatience.  God 
knows  he  did  look  young ;  as  he  stood  with  his 


AT  ZATOWS.  7 

head  bare  and  his  fair  hair  drooping  over  his 
smooth  woman's  forehead  —  a  mere  lad  fresh  from 
the  College  of  Burgundy,  if  they  have  such  a  thing 
in  England.  I  felt  a  sudden  chill  as  I  looked  at 
him  :  a  qualm,  a  tremor,  a  presentiment.  What 
was  it  the  little  tailor  had  said  ?  That  I  should  — 
but  there,  he  did  not  know.  What  did  he  know 
of  such  things  ?  If  I  let  this  pass  I  must  kill  a 
man  a  day,  or  leave  Paris  and  the  eating-house, 
and  starve. 

"A  thousand  pardons,"  I  said  gravely,  as  I 
drew  and  took  my  place.  "  A  dun.  I  am  sorry 
that  the  poor  devil  caught  me  so  inopportunely. 
Now,  however,  I  am  at  your  service." 

He  saluted,  and  we  crossed  swords  and  began. 
But  from  the  first  I  had  no  doubt  what  the  result 
would  be.  The  slippery  stones  and  fading  light 
gave  him,  it  is  true,  some  chance,  some  advantage, 
more  than  he  deserved ;  but  I  had  no  sooner  felt 
his  blade  than  I  knew  that  he  was  no  swordsman. 
Possibly  he  had  taken  half-a-dozen  lessons  in  rapier 
art,  and  practised  what  he  learned  with  an  Eng- 
lishman as  heavy  and  awkward  as  himself.  But 
that  was  all.  He  made  a  few  wild,  clumsy  rushes, 


8  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

parrying  widely.  When  I  had  foiled  these,  the 
danger  was  over,  and  I  held  him  at  my  mercy. 

I  played  with  him  a  little  while,  watching  the 
sweat  gather  on  his  brow,  and  the  shadow  of 
the  church-tower  fall  deeper  and  darker,  like 
the  shadow  of  doom,  on  his  face.  Not  out  of 
cruelty  —  God  knows  I  have  never  erred  in  that 
direction  !  —  but  because,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  I  felt  a  strange  reluctance  to  strike  the  blow. 
The  curls  clung  to  his  forehead ;  his  breath  came 
and  went  in  gasps ;  I  heard  the  men  behind  me 
murmur,  and  one  or  two  of  them  drop  an  oath ; 
and  then  I  slipped  —  slipped,  and  was  down  in  a 
moment  on  my  right  side,  my  elbow  striking  the 
pavement  so  sharply  that  the  arm  grew  numb  to 
the  wrist. 

He  held  off !  I  heard  a  dozen  voices  cry,  "  Now ! 
now  you  have  him  !  "  But  he  held  off.  He  stood 
back  and  waited  with  his  breast  heaving  and  his 
point  lowered,  until  I  had  risen  and  stood  again  on 
my  guard. 

"  Enough  !  enough  ! "  a  rough  voice  behind  me 
cried.  "Don't  hurt  the  man  after  that." 

"On  guard,  Sir!"  I  answered  coldly  —  for  he 


AT  ZATOWS.  9 

seemed  to  waver.  "  It  was  an  accident.  It  shall 
not  avail  you  again." 

Several  voices  cried  "Shame!"  and  one,  "You 
coward !  "  But  the  Englishman  stepped  forward, 
a  fixed  look  in  his  blue  eyes.  He  took  his  place 
without  a  word.  I  read  in  his  drawn  white  face 
that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  the  worst,  and 
his  courage  won  my  admiration.  I  would  gladly 
and  thankfully  have  set  one  of  the  lookers-on  — 
any  of  the  lookers-on  —  in  his  place ;  but  that 
could  not  be.  -So  I  thought  of  Zaton's  closed  to 
me,  of  Pombal's  insult,  of  the  sneers  and  slights 
I  had  long  kept  at  the  sword's  point ;  and,  press- 
ing him  suddenly  in  a  heat  of  affected  anger,  I 
thrust  strongly  over  his  guard,  which  had  grown 
feeble,  and  ran  him  through  the  chest. 

When  I  saw  him  lying,  laid  out  on  the  stones 
with  his  eyes  half  shut,  and  his  face  glimmering 
white  in  the  dusk  —  not  that  I  saw  him  thus  long, 
for  there  were  a  dozen  kneeling  round  him  in  a 
twinkling — I  felt  an  unwonted  pang.  It  passed, 
however,  in  a  moment.  For  I  found  myself  con- 
fronted by  a  ring  of  angry  faces  —  of  men  who, 
keeping  at  a  distance,  hissed  and  threatened  me. 


10  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

They  were  mostly  canaille,  who  had  gathered 
during  the  fight,  and  had  viewed  all  that  passed 
from  the  farther  side  of  the  railings.  While 
some  snarled  and  raged  at  me  like  wolves,  call- 
ing me  "  Butcher !  "  and  "  Cut-throat !  "  and  the 
like,  or  cried  out  that  Berault  was  at  his  trade 
again,  others  threatened  me  with  the  vengeance 
of  the  Cardinal,  flung  the  edict  in  my  teeth,  and 
said  with  glee  that  the  guard  were  coming  — 
they  would  see  me  hanged  yet. 

"  His  blood  is  on  your  head ! "  ©ne  cried  furi- 
ously. "  He  will  be  dead  in  an  hour.  And  you 
will  swing  for  him  !  Hurrah  !  " 

"  Begone  to  your  kennel ! "  I  answered,  with  a 
look  which  sent  him  a  yard  backwards,  though 
the  railings  were  between  us.  And  I  wiped  my 
blade  carefully,  standing  a  little  apart.  For  — 
well,  I  could  understand  it  —  it  was  one  of  those 
moments  when  a  man  is  not  popular.  Those 
who  had  come  with  me  from  the  eating-house 
eyed  me  askance,  and  turned  their  backs  'when 
I  drew  nearer ;  and  those  who  had  joined  us  and 
obtained  admission  were  scarcely  more  polite. 

But    I    was   not    to    be    outdone   in   sangfroid. 


AT  ZATOWS.  1 1 

I  cocked  my  hat,  and  drawing  my  cloak  over  my 
shoulders,  went  out  with  a  swagger  which  drove 
the  curs  from  the  gate  before  I  came  within  a 
dozen  paces  of  it.  The  rascals  outside  fell  back 
as  quickly,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  in  the  street. 
Another  moment  and  I  should  have  been  clear 
of  the  place  and  free  to  lie  by  for  a  while,  when 
a  sudden  scurry  took  place  round  me.  The  crowd 
fled  every  way  into  the  gloom,  and  in  a  hand-turn 
a  dozen  of  the  Cardinal's  guard  closed  round  me. 

I  had  some  acquaintance  with  the  officer  in 
command,  and  he  saluted  me  civilly.  "This  is  a 
bad  business,  M.  de  Berault,"  he  said.  "The 
man  is  dead  they  tell  me." 

"Neither  dying  nor  dead,"  I  answered  lightly. 
"  If  that  be  all,  you  may  go  home  again." 

"With  you,"  he  replied,  with  a  grin,  "certainly. 
And  as  it  rains,  the  sooner  the  better.  I  must 
ask  you  for  your  sword,  I  am  afraid." 

"Take  it,"  I  said,  with  the  philosophy  which 
never  deserts  me.  "But  the  man  will  not  die." 

"  I  hope  that  may  avail  you,"  he  answered  in  a 
tone  I  did  not  like.  "  Left  wheel,  my  friends ! 
To  the  Chatelet !  March  !  " 


12  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"There  are  worse  places,"  I  said,  and  resigned 
myself  to  fate.  After  all,  I  had  been  in  prison 
before,  and  learned  that  only  one  jail  lets  no 
prisoner  escape. 

But  when  I  found  that  my  friend's  orders  were 
to  hand  me  over  to  the  watch,  and  that  I  was 
to  be  confined  like  any  common  jail-bird  caught 
cutting  a  purse  or  slitting  a  throat,  I  confess  my 
heart  sank.  If  I  could  get  speech  with  the 
Cardinal,  all  would  probably  be  well ;  but  if  I 
failed  in  this,  or  if  the  case  came  before  him 
in  strange  guise,  or  he  were  in  a  hard  mood 
himself,  then  it  might  go  ill  with  me.  The  edict 
said,  death  ! 

And  the  lieutenant  at  the  Chatelet  did  not 
put  himself  to  much  trouble  to  hearten  me. 
"  What !  again,  M.  de  Berault  ? "  he  said,  raising 
his  eyebrows  as  he  received  me  at  the  gate, 
and  recognized  me  by  the  light  of  the  brazier 
which  his  men  were  just  kindling  outside.  "You 
are  a  very  bold  man,  Sir,  or  a  very  foolhardy 
one,  to  come  here  again.  The  old  business,  I 


suppose 


"Yes,  but  he  is  not  dead,"  I  answered  coolly. 


AT  ZATON^S.  13 

"He  has  a  trifle  —  a  mere  scratch.  It  was  behind 
the  church  of  St.  Jacques." 

"  He  looked  dead  enough,"  my  friend  the 
guardsman  interposed.  He  had  not  yet  gone. 

"Bah ! "  I  answered  scornfully.  "  Have  you  ever 
known  me  make  a  mistake  ?  When  I  kill  a  man, 
I  kill  him.  I  put  myself  to  pains,  I  tell  you,  not 
to  kill  this  Englishman.  Therefore  he  will  live." 

"I  hope  so,"  the  lieutenant  said,  with  a  dry 
smile.  "  And  you  had  better  hope  so,  too,  M.  de 
Berault.  For  if  not  —  " 

"Well?"  I  said,  somewhat  troubled.  "If  not, 
what,  my  friend  ? " 

"  I  fear  he  will  be  the  last  man  you  will  fight," 
he  answered.  "  And  even  if  he  lives,  I  would  not 
be  too  sure,  my  friend.  This  time  the  Cardinal  is 
determined  to  put  it  down." 

"  He  and  I  are  old  friends,"  I  said  confidently. 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  he  answered,  with  a  short 
laugh.  "I  think  the  same  was  said  of  Chalais.  I 
do  not  remember  that  it  saved  his  head." 

This  was  not  reassuring.  But  worse  was  to 
come.  Early  in  the  morning  orders  were  received 
that  I  should  be  treated  with  especial  strictness, 


14  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

and  I  was  given  the  choice  between  irons  and  one 
of  the  cells  below  the  level.  Choosing  the  latter, 
I  was  left  to  reflect  upon  many  things ;  among 
others,  on  the  queer  and  uncertain  nature  of  the 
Cardinal,  who  loved,  I  knew,  to  play  with  a  man 
as  a  cat  with  a  mouse ;  and  on  the  ill  effects  which 
sometimes  attend  a  high  chest-thrust,  however 
carefully  delivered.  I  only  rescued  myself  at  last 
from  these  and  other  unpleasant  reflections  by 
obtaining  the  loan  of  a  pair  of  dice ;  and  the  light 
being  just  enough  to  enable  me  to  reckon  the 
throws,  I  amused  myself  for  hours  by  casting 
them  on  certain  principles  of  my  own.  But  a 
long  run  again  and  again  upset  my  calculations; 
and  at  last  brought  me  to  the  conclusion  that  a 
run  of  bad  luck  may  be  so  persistent  as  to  see 
out  the  most  sagacious  player.  This  was  not  a 
reflection  very  welcome  to  me  at  the  moment. 

Nevertheless,  for  three  days  it  was  all  the  com- 
pany I  had.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the  knave 
of  a  jailer  who  attended  me,  and  who  had  never 
grown  tired  of  telling  me,  after  the  fashion  of  his 
kind,  that  I  should  be  hanged,  came  to  me  with  a 
less  assured  air.  "Perhaps  you  would  like  a  little 
water?"  he  said  civilly. 


AT  ZATON^S.  I  $ 

"  Why,  rascal  ? "   I  asked. 

"To  wash  with,"  he  answered. 

"  I  asked  for  some  yesterday,  and  you  would 
not  bring  it,"  I  grumbled.  "  However,  better  late 
than  never.  Bring  it  now.  If  I  must  hang,  I  will 
hang  like  a  gentleman.  But,  depend  upon  it,  the 
Cardinal  will  not  serve  an  old  friend  so  scurvy  a 
trick." 

"You  are  to  go  to  him,"  he  answered,  when 
he  came  back  with  the  water. 

"What?     To  the  Cardinal?"    I  cried. 

"Yes,"  he  answered. 

"  Good  !  "  I  exclaimed  ;  and  in  my  joy  I  sprang 
up  at  once,  and  began  to  refresh  my  dress.  "So 
all  this  time  I  have  been  doing  him  an  injustice. 
Vive  Monseigneur !  I  might  have  known  it." 

"  Don't  make  too  sure ! "  the  man  answered 
spitefully.  Then  he  went  on  :  "I  have  some- 
thing else  for  you.  A  friend  of  yours  left  it 
at  the  gate,"  he  added.  And  he  handed  me  a 
packet. 

"  Quite  so ! "  I  said,  reading  his  rascally  face 
aright.  "And  you  kept  it  as  long  as  you  dared 
—  as  long  as  you  thought  I  should  hang,  you 


1 6  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

knave !  Was  not  that  so  ?  But  there,  do  not 
lie  to  me.  Tell  me  instead  which  of  my  friends 
left  it."  For,  to  confess  the  truth,  I  had  not 
so  many  friends  at  this  time ;  and  ten  good 
crowns  —  the  packet  contained  no  less  a  sum  — 
argued  a  pretty  staunch  friend,  and  one  of  whom 
a  man  might  be  proud. 

The  knave  sniggered  maliciously.  "A  crooked, 
dwarfish  man  left  it,"  he  said.  "  I  doubt  I  might 
call  him  a  tailor  and  not  be  far  out." 

"  Chut ! "  I  answered ;  but  I  was  a  little  out 
of  countenance.  "I  understand.  An  honest  fel- 
low enough,  and  in  debt  to  me !  I  am  glad  he 
remembered.  But  when  am  I  to  go,  friend  ? " 

"  In  an  hour,"  he  answered  sullenly.  Doubt- 
less he  had  looked  to  get  one  of  the  crowns ; 
but  I  was  too  old  a  hand  for  that.  If  I  came 
back  I  could  buy  his  services ;  and  if  I  did  not 
I  should  have  wasted  my  money. 

Nevertheless,  a  little  later,  when  I  found  my- 
self on  my  way  to  the  H6tel  Richelieu  under  so 
close  a  guard  that  I  could  see  nothing  except 
the  figures  that  immediately  surrounded  me,  I 
wished  I  had  given  him  the  money.  At  such 


AT  Z ATONES.  I? 

times,  when  all  hangs  in  the  balance  and  the 
sky  is  overcast,  the  mind  runs  on  luck  and  old 
superstitions,  and  is  prone  to  think  a  crown  given 
here  may  avail  there  —  though  there  be  a  hun- 
dred leagues  away. 

The  Palais  Richelieu  was  at  this  time  in  build- 
ing, and  we  were  required  to  wait  in  a  long, 
bare  gallery,  where  the  masons  were  at  work. 
I  was  kept  a  full  hour  here,  pondering  uncom- 
fortably on  the  strange  whims  and  fancies  of 
the  great  man  who  then  ruled  France  as  the 
King's  Lieutenant-General,  with  all  the  King's 
powers ;  and  whose  life  I  had  once  been  the 
means  of  saving  by  a  little  timely  information. 
On  occasion  he  had  done  something  to  wipe  out 
the  debt ;  and  at  other  times  he  had  permitted 
me  to  be  free  with  him.  We  were  not  unknown 
to  one  another,  therefore. 

Nevertheless,  when  the  doors  were  at  last  thrown 
open,  and  I  was  led  into  his  presence,  my  confi- 
dence underwent  a  shock.  His  cold  glance,  that, 
roving  over  me,  regarded  me  not  as  a  man  but 
an  item,  the  steely  glitter  of  his  southern  eyes, 
chilled  me  to  the  bone.  The  room  was  bare,  the 

c 


1 8  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

floor  without  carpet  or  covering.  Some  of  the 
woodwork  lay  about,  unfinished  and  in  pieces. 
But  the  man  —  this  man,  needed  no  surroundings. 
His  keen,  pale  face,  his  brilliant  eyes,  even  his 
presence  —  though  he  was  of  no  great  height  and 
began  already  to  stoop  at  the  shoulders  —  were 
enough  to  awe  the  boldest.  I  recalled  as  I  looked 
at  him  a  hundred  tales  of  his  iron  will,  his  cold 
heart,  his  unerring  craft.  He  had  humbled  the 
King's  brother,  the  splendid  Duke  of  Orleans,  in 
the  dust.  He  had  curbed  the  Queen-mother.  A 
dozen  heads,  the  noblest  in  France,  had  come  to 
the  block  through  him.  Only  two  years  before 
he  had  quelled  Rochelle ;  only  a  few  months  be- 
fore he  had  crushed  the  great  insurrection  in  Lan- 
guedoc  :  and  though  the  south,  stripped  of  its  old 
privileges,  still  seethed  with  discontent,  no  one  in 
this  year  1630  dared  lift  a  hand  against  him  — 
openly,  at  any  rate.  Under  the  surface  a  hundred 
plots,  a  thousand  intrigues,  sought  his  life  or  his 
power ;  but  these,  I  suppose,  are  the  hap  of  every 
great  man. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  the  courage  on  which  I 
plumed  myself  sank  low  at  sight  of  him ;  or  that 


AT  Z 'ATOM'S.  19 

it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  mingle  with  the 
humility  of  my  salute  some  touch  of  the  sangfroid 
of  old  acquaintanceship. 

And  perhaps  that  had  been  better  left  out.  For 
this  man  was  without  bowels.  For  a  moment, 
while  he  stood  looking  at  me  and  before  he  spoke 
to  me,  I  gave  myself  up  for  lost.  There  was  a 
glint  of  cruel  satisfaction  in  his  eyes  that  warned 
me,  before  he  spoke,  what  he  was  going  to  say 
to  me. 

"I  could  not  have  made  a  better  catch,  M.  de 
Berault,"  he  said,  smiling  villainously,  while  he 
gently  smoothed  the  fur  of  a  cat  that  had  sprung 
on  the  table  beside  him.  "An  old  offender  and 
an  excellent  example.  I  doubt  it  will  not  stop 
with  you.  But  later,  we  will  make  you  the  war- 
rant for  flying  at  higher  game." 

"Monseigneur  has  handled  a  sword  himself,"  I 
blurted  out.  The  very  room  seemed  to  be  grow- 
ing darker,  the  air  colder.  I  was  never  nearer 
fear  in  my  life. 

"  Yes  ? "  he  said,  smiling  delicately.    "  And  so  ? " 

"  Will  not  be  too  hard  on  the  failings  of  a  poor 
gentleman." 

C  2 


20  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  He  shall  suffer  no  more  than  a  rich  one,"  he 
replied  suavely,  as  he  stroked  the  cat.  "  Enjoy 
that  satisfaction,  M.  de  Berault.  Is  that  all  ? " 

"Once  I  was  of  service  to  your  Eminence,"  I 
said  desperately. 

"  Payment  has  been  made,"  he  answered,  "  more 
than  once.  But  for  that  I  should  not  have  seen 
you,  M.  de  Berault." 

"  The  King's  face ! "  I  cried,  snatching  at  the 
straw  he  seemed  to  hold  out. 

He  laughed  cynically,  smoothly.  His  thin  face, 
his  dark  moustache,  and  whitening  hair,  gave  him 
an  air  of  indescribable  keenness.  "  I  am  not  the 
King,"  he  said.  "Besides,  I  am  told  you  have 
killed  as  many  as  six  men  in  duels.  You  owe  the 
King,  therefore,  one  life  at  least.  You  must  pay 
it.  There  is  no  more  to  be  said,  M.  de  Berault," 
he  continued  coldly,  turning  away  and  beginning 
to  collect  some  papers.  "  The  law  must  take  its 
course." 

I  thought  he  was  about  to  nod  to  the  lieuten- 
ant to  withdraw  me,  and  a  chilling  sweat  broke 
out  down  my  back.  I  saw  the  scaffold,  I  felt  the 
cords.  A  moment,  and  it  would  be  too  late  !  "  I 


AT  ZATOWS.  21 

have  a  favour  to  ask,"  I  stammered  desperately, 
"if  your  Eminence  would  give  me  a  moment 
alone." 

"To  what  end?"  he  answered,  turning  and  eye- 
ing me  with  cold  disfavour.  "  I  know  you  —  your 
past  —  all.  It  can  do  no  good,  my  friend." 

"Nor  harm!"  I  cried.  "And  I  am  a  dying 
man,  Monseigneur ! " 

"  That  is  true,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  Still  he 
seemed  to  hesitate ;  and  my  heart  beat  fast.  At 
last  he  looked  at  the  lieutenant.  "  You  may  leave 
us,"  he  said  shortly.  "Now,"  when  the  officer 
had  withdrawn  and  left  us  alone,  "what  is  it? 
Say  what  you  have  to  say  quickly.  And  above 
all,  do  not  try  to  fool  me,  M.  de  Berault." 

But  his  piercing  eyes  so  disconcerted  me  that 
now  I  had  my  chance  I  could  not  find  a  word  to 
say,  and  stood  before  him  mute.  I  think  this 
pleased  him,  for  his  face  relaxed. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said  at  last.     « Is  that  all  ? " 

"The  man  is  not  dead,"  I  muttered. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously. 
"What  of  that?"  he  said.  "That  was  not  what 
you  wanted  to  say  to  me." 


22  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"Once  I  saved  your  Eminence's  life,"  I  fal- 
tered miserably. 

"Admitted,"  he  answered,  in  his  thin,  incisive 
voice.  "  You  mentioned  the  fact  before.  On  the 
other  hand,  you  have  taken  six  to  my  knowledge, 
M.  de  Berault.  You  have  lived  the  life  of  a 
bully,  a  common  bravo,  a  gamester.  You,  a  man 
of  family  !  For  shame  !  And  it  has  brought  you 
to  this.  Yet  on  that  one  point  I  am  willing  to 
hear  more,"  he  added  abruptly. 

"I  might  save  your  Eminence's  life  again,"  I 
cried.  It  was  a  sudden  inspiration. 

"You  know  something,"  he  said  quickly,  fixing 
me  with  his  eyes.  "  But  no,"  he  continued,  shak- 
ing his  head  gently.  "  Pshaw  !  the  trick  is  old. 
I  have  better  spies  than  you,  M.  de  Berault." 

"  But  no  better  sword,"  I  cried  hoarsely.  "  No, 
not  in  all  your  guard ! " 

"That  is  true,"  he  said.  "That  is  true."  To 
my  surprise,  he  spoke  in  a  tone  of  consideration ; 
and  he  looked  down  at  the  floor.  "  Let  me  think, 
my  friend,"  he  continued. 

He  walked  two  or  three  times  up  and  down 
the  room,  while  I  stood  trembling.  I  confess  it, 


AT  ZATON'S.  23 

trembling.  The  man  whose  pulses  danger  has 
no  power  to  quicken,  is  seldom  proof  against 
suspense ;  and  the  sudden  hope  his  words  awak- 
ened in  me  so  shook  me  that  his  figure,  as  he 
trod  lightly  to  and  fro,  with  the  cat  rubbing 
against  his  robe  and  turning  time  for  time  with 
him,  wavered  before  my  eyes.  I  grasped  the 
table  to  steady  myself.  I  had  not  admitted  even 
in  my  own  mind  how  darkly  the  shadow  of 
Montfaucon  and  the  gallows  had  fallen  across 
me. 

I  had  leisure  to  recover  myself,  for  it  was  some 
time  before  he  spoke.  When  he  did,  it  was  in 
a  voice  harsh,  changed,  imperative.  "You  have 
the  reputation  of  a  man  faithful,  at  least,  to  his 
employer,"  he  said.  "  Do  not  answer  me.  I  say 
it  is  so.  Well,  I  will  trust  you.  I  will  give  you 
.one  more  chance  —  though  it  is  a  desperate  one. 
Woe  to  you  if  you  fail  me !  Do  you  know 
Cocheforet  in  Be"arn  ?  It  is  not  far  from  Auch." 

"No,  your  Eminence." 

"  Nor  M.  de  Cocheforet  ?  " 

"No,  your  Eminence." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  he  retorted.     "  But  you 


24  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

have  heard  of  him.  He  has  been  engaged  in 
every  Gascon  plot  since  the  late  King's  death, 
and  gave  me  more  trouble  last  year  in  the 
Vivarais  than  any  man  twice  his  years.  At 
present  he  is  at  Bosost  in  Spain,  with  other 
refugees,  but  I  have  learned  that  at  frequent 
intervals  he  visits  his  wife  at  Cocheforet,  which 
is  six  leagues  within  the  border.  On  one  of 
these  visits  he  must  be  arrested." 

"That  should  be  easy,"  I  said. 

The  Cardinal  looked  at  me.  "  Tush,  man ! 
what  do  you  know  about  it  ? "  he  answered 
bluntly.  "  It  is  whispered  at  Cocheforet  if  a  sol- 
dier crosses  the  street  at  Auch.  In  the  house 
are  only  two  or  three  servants,  but  they  have 
the  country-side  with  them  to  a  man,  and  they 
are  a  dangerous  breed.  A  spark  might  kindle 
a  fresh  rising.  The  arrest,  therefore,  must  be 
made  secretly." 

I  bowed. 

"  One  resolute  man  inside  the  house,  with  the 
help  of  two  or  three  servants  whom  he  could 
summon  to  his  aid  at  will,  might  effect  it,"  the 
Cardinal  continued,  glancing  at  a  paper  which  lay 


AT  ZATON^S.  25 

on  the  table.  "The  question  is,  will  you  be  the 
man,  my  friend?" 

I  hesitated  ;  then  I  bowed.  What  choice 
had  I? 

"Nay,  nay,  speak  out ! "  he  said  sharply.  "Yes 
or  no,  M.  de  Berault?" 

"  Yes,  your  Eminence,"  I  said  reluctantly. 
Again,  I  say,  what  choice  had  I  ? 

"  You  will  bring  him  to  Paris,  and  alive.  He 
knows  things,  and  that  is  why  I  want  him.  You 
understand?" 

"I  understand,  Monseigneur,"  I  answered. 

"  You  will  get  into  the  house  as  you  can,"  he 
continued.  "  For  that  you  will  need  strategy,  and 
good  strategy.  They  suspect  everybody.  You 
must  deceive  them.  If  you  fail  to  deceive  them, 
or,  deceiving  them,  are  found  out  later,  M.  de 
Berault  —  I  do  not  think  you  will  trouble  me 
again,  or  break  the  edict  a  second  time.  On  the 
other  hand,  should  you  deceive  me"  —  he  smiled 
still  more  subtly,  but  his  voice  sank  to  a  purring 
note  —  "I  will  break  you  on  the  wheel  like  the 
ruined  gamester  you  are  !  " 

I  met  his  look  without  quailing.     "  So  be  it ! " 


26  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

I  said  recklessly.  "  If  I  do  not  bring  M.  de 
Cocheforet  to  Paris,  you  may  do  that  to  me,  and 
more  also ! " 

"  It  is  a  bargain  ! "  he  answered  slowly.  "  I 
think  you  will  be  faithful.  For  money,  here  are  a 
hundred  crowns.  That  sum  should  suffice ;  but  if 
you  succeed  you  shall  have  twice  as  much  more. 
Well,  that  is  all,  I  think.  You  understand?" 

"Yes,  Monseigneur." 

"Then  why  do  you  wait?" 

"The  lieutenant?"  I  said  modestly. 

Monseigneur  laughed  to  himself,  and  sitting 
down  wrote  a  word  or  two  on  a  slip  of  paper. 
"Give  him  that,"  he  said,  in  high  good-humour. 
"I  fear,  M.  de  Berault,  you  will  never  get  your 
deserts  —  in  this  world!" 


CHAPTER   II. 

AT   THE    GREEN   PILLAR. 

COCHEFORET  lies  in  a  billowy  land  of  oak  and 
beech  and  chestnut  —  a  land  of  deep,  leafy  bot- 
toms, and  hills  clothed  with  forest.  Ridge  and 
valley,  glen  and  knoll,  the  woodland,  sparsely 
peopled  and  more  sparsely  tilled,  stretches  away 
to  the  great  snow  mountains  that  here  limit 
France.  It  swarms  with  game  —  with  wolves 
and  bears,  deer  and  boars.  To  the  end  of  his 
life  I  have  heard  that  the  great  King  loved  this 
district,  and  would  sigh,  when  years  and  State 
fell  heavily  on  him,  for  the  beech-groves  and 
box-covered  hills  of  South  Beam.  From  the 
terraced  steps  of  Auch  you  can  see  the  forest 
roll  away  in  light  and  shadow,  vale  and  upland, 
to  the  base  of  the  snow-peaks;  and,  though  I 
come  from  Brittany  and  love  the  smell  of  the 
salt  wind,  I  have  seen  few  sights  that  outdo  this. 

27 


28  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

It  was  the  second  week  in  October  when  I 
came  to  Cocheforet,  and,  dropping  down  from 
the  last  wooded  brow,  rode  quietly  into  the  place 
at  evening.  I  was  alone,  and  had  ridden  all 
day  in  a  glory  of  ruddy  beech-leaves,  through 
the  silence  of  forest  roads,  across  clear  brooks 
and  glades  still  green.  I  had  seen  more  of  the 
quiet  and  peace  of  the  country  than  had  been 
my  share  since  boyhood,  and  I  felt  a  little  mel- 
ancholy; it  might  be  for  that  reason,  or  because 
I  had  no  great  taste  for  the  task  before  me  — 
the  task  now  so  .  imminent.  In  good  faith,  it 
was  not  a  gentleman's  work,  look  at  it  how  you 
might. 

But  beggars  must  not  be  choosers,  and  I  knew 
that  this  feeling  would  pass  away.  At  the  inn, 
in  the  presence  of  others,  under  the  spur  of 
necessity,  or  in  the  excitement  of  the  chase, 
were  that  once  begun,  I  should  lose  the  feeling. 
When  a  man  is  young,  he  seeks  solitude :  when 
he  is  middle-aged  he  flies  it  and  his  thoughts. 
I  made  without  ado  for  the  Green  Pillar,  a  little 
inn  in  the  village  street,  to  which  I  had  been 
directed  at  Auch,  and,  thundering  on  the  door 


o 


AT  THE  GREEK  PILLAR.  2Cj 

with  the  knob  of  my  riding-switch,  railed  at  the 
man  for  keeping  me  waiting. 

Here  and  there  at  hovel  doors  in  the  street 
—  which  was  a  mean,  poor  place,  not  worthy  of 
the  name  —  men  and  women  looked  out  at  me 
suspiciously.  But  I  affected  to  ignore  them ; 
and  at  last  the  host  came.  He  was  a  fair- 
haired  man,  half  Basque,  half  Frenchman,  and 
had  scanned  me  well,  I  was  sure,  through  some 
window  or  peephole;  for,  when  he  came  out, 
he  betrayed  no  surprise  at  the  sight  of  a  well- 
dressed  stranger  —  a  portent  in  that  out-of-the- 
way  village  —  but  eyed  me  with  a  kind  of  sullen 
reserve. 

"  I  can  lie  here  to-night,  I  suppose  ? "  I  said, 
dropping  the  reins  on  the  sorrel's  neck.  The 
horse  hung  its  head. 

"'I  don't  know,"  he  answered  stupidly. 

I  pointed  to  the  green  bough  which  topped  a 
post  that  stood  opposite  the  door. 

"  This  is  an  inn,  is  it  not  ?  "  I  said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  slowly;  "it  is  an  inn. 
But  —  " 

"  But  you  are  full,  or  you  are  out  of  food,  or 


30  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

your  wife  is  ill,  or  something  else  is  amiss,"  I 
answered  peevishly.  "All  the  same,  I  am  going 
to  lie  here.  So  you  must  make  the  best  of  it, 
and  your  wife,  too  —  if  you  have  one." 

He  scratched  his  head,  looking  at  me  with  an 
ugly  glitter  in  his  eyes.  But  he  said  nothing, 
and  I  dismounted. 

"  Where  can  I  stable  my  horse  ? "  I  asked. 

"  I'll  put  it  up,"  he  answered  sullenly,  step- 
ping forward  and  taking  the  reins  in  his  hands. 

"  Very  well,"  I  said ;  "  but  I  go  with  you.  A 
merciful  man  is  merciful  to  his  beast,  and  where- 
ever  I  go  I  see  my  horse  fed." 

"It  will  be  fed,"  he  said  shortly.  And  then 
he  waited  for  me  to  go  into  the  house.  "  The 
wife  is  in  there,"  he  continued,  looking  at  me 
stubbornly. 

"Imprimis — if  you  understand  Latin,  my  friend," 
I  answered,  "the  horse  in  the  stall." 

As  if  he  saw  it  was  no  good,  he  turned  the 
sorrel  slowly  round,  and  began  to  lead  it  across 
the  village  street.  There  was  a  shed  behind 
the  inn,  which  I  had  already  marked  and  taken 
for  the  stable,  and  I  was  surprised  when  I  found 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR.  31 

he  was  not  going  there.  But  I  made  no  remark, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  saw  the  horse  well  stabled 
in  a  hovel  which  seemed  to  belong  to  a  neighbour. 

This  done,  the  man  led  the  way  back  to  the 
inn,  carrying  my  valise. 

"  You  have  no  other  guests  ? "  I  said,  with  a 
casual  air.  I  knew  he  was  watching  me  closely. 

"  No,"  he  answered. 

"This  is  not  much  in  the  way  to  anywhere,  I 
suppose  ? " 

"No." 

That  was  evident ;  a  more  retired  place  I  never 
saw.  The  hanging  woods,  rising  steeply  to  a 
great  height,  so  shut  the  valley  in  that  I  was 
puzzled  to  think  how  a  man  could  leave  it  save 
by  the  road  I  had  come.  The  cottages,  which 
were  no  more  than  mean,  small  huts,  ran  in  a 
straggling  double  line,  with  many  gaps  —  through 
fallen  trees  and  ill-cleared  meadows.  Among 
them  a  noisy  brook  ran  in  and  out.  And  the 
inhabitants  —  charcoal-burners,  or  swineherds,  or 
poor  people  of  the  like  class,  were  no  better  than 
their  dwellings.  I  looked  in  vain  for  the  Chateau. 
It  was  not  to  be  seen,  and  I  dared  not  ask  for  it. 


32  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

The  man  led  me  into  the  common  room  of  the 
tavern  —  a  low-roofed,  poor  place,  lacking  a  chim- 
ney or  glazed  windows,  and  grimy  with  smoke 
and  use.  The  fire  —  a  great  half -burned  tree  — 
smouldered  on  a  stone  hearth,  raised  a  foot  from 
the  floor.  A  huge  black  pot  simmered  over  it, 
and  beside  one  window  lounged  a  country  fellow 
talking  with  the  goodwife.  In  the  dusk  I  could 
not  see  his  face,  but  I  gave  the  woman  a  word, 
and  sat  down  to  wait  for  my  supper. 

She  seemed  more  silent  than  the  common  run 
of  women  ;  but  this  might  be  because  her  hus- 
band was  present.  While  she  moved  about,  get- 
ting my  meal,  he  took  his  place  against  the  door- 
post and  fell  to  staring  at  me  so  persistently  that 
I  felt  by  no  means  at  my  ease.  He  was  a  tall, 
strong  fellow,  with  a  rough  moustache  and  brown 
beard,  cut  in  the  mode  Henri  Quatre ;  and  on  the 
subject  of  that  king  —  a  safe  one,  I  knew,  with  a 
B6arnais  —  and  on  that  alone,  I  found  it  possible 
to  make  him  talk.  Even  then  there  was  a  suspi- 
cious gleam  in  his  eyes  that  bade  me  abstain  from 
questions ;  and  as  the  darkness  deepened  behind 
him,  and  the  firelight  played  more  and  more 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR.  33 

strongly  on  his  features,  and  I  thought  of  the 
leagues  of  woodland  that  lay  between  this  remote 
valley  and  Auch,  I  recalled  the  Cardinal's  warn- 
ing that  if  I  failed  in  my  attempt  I  should  be 
little  likely  to  trouble  Paris  again. 

The  lout  by  the  window  paid  no  attention  to 
me ;  nor  I  to  him,  when  I  had  once  satisfied  my- 
self that  he  was  really  what  he  seemed  to  be. 
But  by  and  by  two  or  three  men  —  rough,  un- 
couth fellows  —  dropped  in  to  reinforce  the  land- 
lord, and  they,  too,  seemed  to  have  no  other 
business  than  to  sit  in  silence  looking  at  me,  or 
now  and  again  to  exchange  a  word  in  a  patois 
of  their  own.  By  the  time  my  supper  was  ready, 
the  knaves  numbered  six  in  all;  and,  as  they 
were  armed  to  a  man  with  huge  Spanish  knives, 
and  evidently  resented  my  presence  in  their  dull 
rustic  fashion  —  every  rustic  is  suspicious  —  I 
began  to  think  that,  unwittingly,  I  had  put  my 
head  into  a  wasp's  nest. 

Nevertheless,  I  ate  and  drank  with  apparent 
appetite;  but  little  that  passed  within  the  circle 
of  light  cast  by  the  smoky  lamp  escaped  me.  I 
watched  the  men's  looks  and  gestures  at  least 

D 


34  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

as  sharply  as  they  watched  mine;  and  all  the 
time  I  was  racking  my  wits  for  some  mode  of  dis- 
arming their  suspicions  —  or  failing  that,  of  learn- 
ing something  more  of  the  position,  which,  it  was 
clear,  far  exceeded  in  difficulty  and  danger  any- 
thing I  had  expected.  The  whole  valley,  it  would 
seem,  was  on  the  lookout  to  protect  my  man ! 

I  had  purposely  brought  with  me  from  Auch  a 
couple  of  bottles  of  choice  Armagnac ;  and  these 
had  been  carried  into  the  house  with  my  saddle- 
bags. I  took  one  out  now  and  opened  it,  and 
carelessly  offered  a  dram  of  the  spirit  to  the 
landlord.  He  took  it.  As  he  drank  it,  I  saw  his 
face  flush;  he  handed  back  the  cup  reluctantly, 
and  on  that  hint  I  offered  him  another.  The 
strong  spirit  was  already  beginning  to  work.  He 
accepted,  and  in  a  few  minutes  began  to  talk 
more  freely  and  with  less  of  the  constraint  which 
had  marked  us.  Still,  his  tongue  ran  chiefly  on 
questions  —  he  would  know  this,  he  would  learn 
that;  but  even  this  was  a  welcome  change.  I 
told  him  openly  whence  I  had  come,  by  what 
road,  how  long  I  had  stayed  in  Auch,  and  where ; 
and  so  far  I  satisfied  his  curiosity.  Only  when  I 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR.  35 

came  to  the  subject  of  my  visit  to  Cocheforet  I 
kept  a  mysterious  silence,  hinting  darkly  at  busi- 
ness in  Spain  and  friends  across  the  border,  and 
this  and  that,  and  giving  the  peasants  to  under- 
stand, if  they  pleased,  that  I  was  in  the  same 
interest  as  their  exiled  master. 

They  took  the  bait,  winked  at  one  another,  and 
began  to  look  at  me  in  a  more  friendly  way  — 
the  landlord  foremost.  But  when  I  had  led  them 
so  far,  I  dared  go  no  farther,  lest  I  should  com- 
mit myself  and  be  found  out.  I  stopped,  there- 
fore, and,  harking  back  to  general  subjects, 
chanced  to  compare  my  province  with  theirs. 
The  landlord,  now  become  almost  talkative,  was 
not  slow  to  take  up  this  challenge;  and  it  pres- 
ently led  to  my  acquiring  a  curious  piece  of 
knowledge.  He  was  boasting  of  his  great  snow 
mountains,  the  forests  that  propped  them,  the 
bears  that  roamed  in  them,  the  izards  that  loved 
the  ice,  and  the  boars  that  fed  on  the  oak  mast. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  quite  by  chance,  "  we  have  not 
these  things,  it  is  true.  But  we  have  things  in 
the  north  you  have  not.  We  have  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  good  horses  —  not  such  ponies  as  you 

D  2 


36  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

breed  here.  At  the  horse  fair  at  F6camp  my 
sorrel  would  be  lost  in  the  crowd.  Here  in  the 
south  you  will  not  meet  his  match  in  a  long  day's 
journey." 

"  Do  not  make  too  sure  of  that ! "  the  man 
replied,  his  eyes  bright  with  triumph  and  the 
dram.  "What  would  you  say  if  I  showed  you 
a  better  —  in  my  own  stable?" 

I  saw  that  his  words  sent  a  kind  of  thrill 
through  his  other  hearers,  and  that  such  of  them 
as  understood  —  for  two  or  three  of  them  talked 
their  patois  only  —  looked  at  him  angrily;  and 
in  a  twinkling  I  began  to  comprehend.  But  I 
affected  dulness,  and  laughed  scornfully. 

"  Seeing  is  believing,"  I  said.  "  I  doubt  if  you 
know  a  good  horse  here  when  you  see  one,  my 
friend." 

"  Oh,  don't  I  ?  "  he  said,  winking.     "  Indeed  !  " 

"  I  doubt  it,"  I  answered  stubbornly. 

"Then  come  with  me,  and  I  will  show  you 
one,"  he  retorted,  discretion  giving  way  to  vain- 
glory. His  wife  and  the  others,  I  saw,  looked 
at  him  dumbfounded;  but,  without  paying  any 
heed  to  them,  he  took  up  a  lanthorn,  and,  assum- 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR.  37 

ing  an  air  of  peculiar  wisdom,  opened  the  door. 
"  Come  with  me,"  he  continued.  "  I  don't  know 
a  good  horse  when  I  see  one,  don't  I  ?  I  know 
a  better  than  yours,  at  any  rate!" 

I  should  not  have  been  surprised  if  the  other 
men  had  interfered;  but  —  I  suppose  he  was  a 
leader  among  them,  and  they  did  not,  and  in 
a  moment  we  were  outside.  Three  paces  through 
the  darkness  took  us  to  the  stable,  an  offset  at 
the  back  of  the  inn.  My  man  twirled  the  pin, 
and,  leading  the  way  in,  raised  his  lanthorn.  A 
horse  whinnied  softly,  and  turned  its  bright,  soft 
eyes  on  us  —  a  baldf aced  chestnut,  with  white 
hairs  in  its  tail  and  one  white  stocking. 

"  There ! "  my  guide  exclaimed,  waving  the 
lanthorn  to  and  fro  boastfully,  that  I  might  see 
its  points.  "  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  Is  that 
an  undersized  pony  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered,  purposely  stinting  my 
praise.  "It  is  pretty  fair  —  for  this  country." 

"Or  any  country,"  he  answered  wrathfully. 
"Any  country,  I  say — I  don't  care  where  it  is! 
And  I  have  reason  to  know  !  Why,  man,  that 
horse  is —  But  there,  that  is  a  good  horse,  if 


38  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE, 

ever  you  saw  one !  "  And  with  that  he  ended 
abruptly  and  lamely,  lowering  the  lanthorn  with 
a  sudden  gesture,  and  turning  to  the  door.  He 
was  on  the  instant  in  such  hurry,  that  he  almost 
shouldered  me  out. 

But  I  understood.  I  knew  that  he  had  nearly 
betrayed  all  —  that  he  had  been  on  the  point  of 
blurting  out  that  that  was  M.  de  Cocheforet's 
horse !  M.  de  Cocheforet's,  comprenez  bien  !  And 
while  I  turned  away  my  face  in  the  darkness, 
that  he  might  not  see  me  smile,  I  was  not  sur- 
prised to  find  the  man  in  a  moment  changed, 
and  become,  in  the  closing  of  the  door,  as  sober 
and  suspicious  as  before,  ashamed  of  himself  and 
enraged  with  me,  and  in  a  mood  to  cut  my  throat 
for  a  trifle. 

It  was  not  my  cue  to  quarrel,  however  —  any- 
thing but  that.  I  made,  therefore,  as  if  I  had 
seen  nothing,  and  when  we  were  back  in  the 
inn  praised  the  horse  grudgingly,  and  like  a  man 
but  half  convinced.  The  ugly  looks  and  ugly 
weapons  I  saw  around  me  were  fine  incentives 
to  caution ;  and  no  Italian,  I  flatter  myself,  could 
have  played  his  part  more  nicely  than  I  did.  But 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR.  39 

I  was  heartily  glad  when  it  was  over,  and  I  found 
myself,  at  last,  left  alone  for  the  night  in  a  little 
garret — a  mere  fowl-house  —  upstairs,  formed  by 
the  roof  and  gable  walls,  and  hung  with  strings 
of  apples  and  chestnuts.  It  was  a  poor  sleeping- 
place —  rough,  chilly,  and  unclean.  I  ascended 
to  it  by  a  ladder;  my  cloak  and  a  little  fern 
formed  my  only  bed.  But  I  was  glad  to  accept 
it.  It  enabled  me  to  be  alone  and  to  think  out 
the  position  unwatched. 

Of  course  M.  de  Cocheforet  was  at  the  Chateau. 
He  had  left  his  horse  here,  and  gone  up  on 
foot :  probably  that  was  his  usual  plan.  He 
was  therefore  within  my  reach,  in  one  sense  — 
I  could  not  have  come  at  a  better  time  —  but  in 
another  he  was  as  much  beyond  it  as  if  I  were 
still  in  Paris.  So  far  was  I  from  being  able  to 
seize  him  that  I  dared  not  ask  a  question  or  let 
fall  a  rash  word,  or  even  look  about  me  freely. 
I  saw  I  dared  not.  The  slightest  hint  of  my 
mission,  the  faintest  breath  of  distrust,  would 
lead  to  throat-cutting  —  and  the  throat  would  be 
mine;  while  the  longer  I  lay  in  the  village,  the 
greater  suspicion  I  should  incur,  and  the  closer 
would  be  the  watch  kept  over  me. 


40  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

In  such  a  position  some  men  might  have  given 
up  the  attempt  and  saved  themselves  across  the 
border.  But  I  have  always  valued  myself  on 
my  fidelity,  and  I  did  not  shrink.  If  not  to-day, 
to-morrow ;  if  not  this  time,  next  time.  The 
dice  do  not  always  turn  up  aces.  Bracing  myself, 
therefore,  to  the  occasion,  I  crept,  as  soon  as 
the  house  was  quiet,  to  the  window,  a  small, 
square,  open  lattice,  much  cobwebbed,  and  partly 
stuffed  with  hay.  I  looked  out.  The  village 
seemed  to  be  asleep.  The  dark  branches  of  trees 
hung  a  few  feet  away,  and  almost  obscured  a 
grey,  cloudy  sky,  through  which  a  wet  moon 
sailed  drearily.  Looking  downwards,  I  could  at 
first  see  nothing;  but  as  my  eyes  grew  used  to 
the  darkness  —  I  had  only  just  put  out  my 
rushlight  —  I  made  out  the  stable-door  and  the 
shadowy  outlines  of  the  lean-to  roof. 

I  had  hoped  for  this.  I  could  now  keep 
watch,  and  learn  at  least  whether  Cocheforet 
left  before  morning.  If  he  did  not  I  should 
know  he  was  still  here.  If  he  did,  I  should  be 
the  better  for  seeing  his  features,  and  learning, 
perhaps,  other  things  that  might  be  of  use. 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR.  41 

Making  up  my  mind  to  be  uncomfortable,  I 
sat  down  on  the  floor  by  the  lattice,  and  began 
a  vigil  that  might  last, .  I  knew,  until  morning. 
It  did  last  about  an  hour.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  I  heard  whispering  below,  then  footsteps; 
then,  as  some  persons  turned  a  corner,  a  voice 
speaking  aloud  and  carelessly.  I  could  not  catch 
the  words  spoken ;  but  the  voice  was  a  gentle- 
man's, and  its  bold  accents  and  masterful  tone 
left  me  in  no  doubt  that  the  speaker  was  M.  de 
Cocheforet  himself.  Hoping  to  learn  more,  I 
pressed  my  face  nearer  to  the  opening,  and 
I  had  just  made  out  through  the  gloom  two 
figures  —  one  that  of  a  tall,  slight  man,  wearing 
a  cloak,  the  other,  I  thought,  a  woman's,  in  a 
sheeny  white  dress  —  when  a  thundering  rap  on 
the  door  of  my  garret  made  me  spring  back  a 
yard  from  the  lattice,  and  lie  down  hurriedly  on 
my  couch.  The  noise  was  repeated. 

"Well?"  I  cried,  cursing  the  untimely  inter- 
ruption. I  was  burning  with  anxiety  to  see  more. 
"What  is  it?  What  is  the  matter?" 

The  trapdoor  was  lifted  a  foot  or  more.  The 
landlord  thrust  up  his  head. 


42  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE, 

"  You  called,  did  you  not  ? "  he  asked.  He 
held  up  a  rushlight,  which  illumined  half  the 
room  and  lit  up  his  grinning  face. 

"  Called  —  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  you  fool  ?  " 
I  answered  angrily.  "  No  !  I  did  not  call.  Go 
to  bed,  man  !  " 

But  he  remained  on  the  ladder,  gaping  stupidly. 

"  I  heard  you,"  he  said. 

"  Go  to  bed !  You  are  drunk !  "  I  answered, 
sitting  up.  "I  tell  you  I  did  not  call." 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  And 
you  do  not  want  anything?" 

"  Nothing  —  except  to  be  left  alone  !  "  I  replied 
sourly. 

"Umph!"  he  said.     "Good-night!" 

"  Good-night !  Good-night !  "  I  answered,  with 
what  patience  I  might.  The  tramp  of  the  horse's 
hoofs  as  it  was  led  out  of  the  stable  was  in 
my  ear  at  the  moment.  "  Good-night !  "  I  con- 
tinued feverishly,  hoping  he  would  still  retire 
in  time,  and  I  have  a  chance  to  look  out.  "  I 
want  to  sleep." 

"  Good,"  he  said,  with  a  broad  grin.  "  But 
it  is  early  yet,  and  you  have  plenty  of  time." 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR.  43 

And  then,  at  last,  he  slowly  let  down  the  trap- 
door, and  I  heard  him  chuckle  as  he  went  down 
the  ladder. 

Before  he  reached  the  bottom  I  was  at  the 
window.  The  woman  whom  I  had  seen  still 
stood  below,  in  the  same  place;  and  beside  her 
a  man  in  a  peasant's  dress,  holding  a  lanthorn. 
But  the  man,  the  man  I  wanted  to  see  was  no 
longer  there.  And  it  was  evident  that  he  was 
gone;  it  was  evident  that  the  others  no  longer 
feared  me,  for  while  I  gazed  the  landlord  came 
out  to  them  with  another  lanthorn,  and  said 
something  to  the  lady,  and  she  looked  up  at  my 
window  and  laughed. 

It  was  a  warm  night,  and  she  wore  nothing 
over  her  white  dress.  I  could  see  her  tall, 
shapely  figure  and  shining  eyes,  and  the  firm 
contour  of  her  beautiful  face;  which,  if  any 
fault  might  be  found  with  it,  erred  in  being  too 
regular.  She  looked  like  a  woman  formed  by 
nature  to  meet  dangers  and  difficulties ;  and  even 
here,  at  midnight,  in  the  midst  of  these  desperate 
men,  she  seemed  in  place.  It  was  possible  that 
under  her  queenly  exterior,  and  behind  the  con- 


44  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

temptuous  laugh  with  which  she  heard  the  land- 
lord's story,  there  lurked  a  woman's  soul  capable 
of  folly  and  tenderness.  But  no  outward  sign 
betrayed  its  presence. 

I  scanned  her  very  carefully;  and  secretly,  if 
the  truth  be  told,  I  was  glad  to  find  Madame  de 
Cocheforet  such  a  woman.  I  was  glad  that  she 
had  laughed  as  she  had  —  that  she  was  not  a 
little,  tender,  child-like  woman,  to  be  crushed  by 
the  first  pinch  of  trouble.  For  if  I  succeeded  in 
my  task,  if  I  —  but,  pish !  Women,  I  said,  were 
all  alike.  She  would  find  consolation  quickly 
enough. 

I  watched  until  the  group  broke  up,  and 
Madame,  with  one  of  the  men,  went  her  way 
round  the  corner  of  the  inn,  and  out  of  my 
sight.  Then  I  retired  to  bed  again,  feeling  more 
than  ever  perplexed  what  course  I  should  adopt. 
It  was  clear  that,  to  succeed,  I  must  obtain 
admission  to  the  house.  This  was  garrisoned, 
unless  my  instructions  erred,  by  two  or  three 
old  men-servants  only,  and  as  many  women ; 
since  Madame,  to  disguise  her  husband's  visits 
the  more  easily,  lived,  and  gave  out  that  she 


AT  THE  GREEN"  PILLAR.  4$ 

lived,  in  great  retirement.  To  seize  her  hus- 
band at  home,  therefore,  might  be  no  impossible 
task;  though  here,  in  the  heart  of  the  village, 
a  troop  of  horse  might  make  the  attempt,  and 
fail. 

But  how  was  I  to  gain  admission  to  the  house 
—  a  house  guarded  by  quick-witted  women,  and 
hedged  in  with  all  the  precautions  love  could 
devise  ?  That  was  the  question ;  and  dawn  found 
me  still  debating  it,  still  as  far  as  ever  from  an 
answer.  With  the  first  light  I  was  glad  to  get 
up.  I  thought  that  the  fresh  air  might  inspire 
me,  and  I  was  tired,  besides,  of  my  stuffy  closet. 
I  crept  stealthily  down  the  ladder,  and  managed 
to  pass  unseen  through  the  lower  room,  in  which 
several  persons  were  snoring  heavily.  The  outer 
door  was  not  fastened,  and  in  a  hand-turn  I 
stood  in  the  street. 

It  was  still  so  early  that  the  trees  stood  up 
black  against  the  reddening  sky,  but  the  bough 
upon  the  post  before  the  door  was  growing 
green,"  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  grey  light 
would  be  everywhere.  Already  even  in  the  road- 
way there  was  a  glimmering  of  it;  and  as  I 


46  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

stood  at  the  corner  of  the  house  —  where  I  could 
command  both  the  front  and  the  side  on  which 
the  stable  opened  —  looking  greedily  for  any 
trace  of  the  midnight  departure,  my  eyes  de- 
tected something  light-coloured  lying  on  the 
ground.  It  was  not  more  than  two  or  three 
paces  from  me,  and  I  stepped  to  it  and  picked 
it  up  curiously,  hoping  it  might  be  a  note.  It 
was  not  a  note,  however,  but  a  tiny  orange-col- 
oured sachet,  such  as  women  carry  in  the  bosom. 
It  was  full  of  some  faintly  scented  powder,  and 
bore  on  one  side  the  initial  "  E,"  worked  in 
white  silk;  and  was  altogether  a  dainty  little 
toy,  such  as  women  love. 

Doubtless  Madame  de  Cocheforet  had  dropped 
it  in  the  night.  I  turned  it  over  and  over;  and 
then  I  put  it  away  with  a  smile,  thinking  it 
might  be  useful  some  time,  and  in  some  way. 
I  had  scarcely  done  this,  and  turned  with  the 
intention  of  exploring  the  street,  when  the  door 
behind  me  creaked  on  its  leather  hinges,  and  in 
a  moment  my  host  stood  at  my  elbow. 

Evidently  his  suspicions  were  again  aroused, 
for  from  that  time  he  managed  to  be  with  me, 


AT  THE  GREEN  PILLAR.  47 

on  one  pretence  or  another,  until  noon.  More- 
over, his  manner  grew  each  moment  more  churl- 
ish, his  hints  plainer;  until  I  could  scarcely  avoid 
noticing  the  one  or  the  other.  About  midday, 
having  followed  me  for  the  twentieth  time  into 
the  street,  he  came  at  last  to  the  point,  by  ask- 
ing me  rudely  if  I  did  not  need  my  horse. 

"No,"  I  said.     "Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  Because,"  he  answered,  with  an  ugly  smile, 
"this  is  not  a  very  healthy  place  for  strangers." 

"  Ah !  "  I  retorted.  "  But  the  border  air  suits 
me,  you  see." 

It  was  a  lucky  answer;  for,  taken  with  my 
talk  of  the  night  before,  it  puzzled  him,  by  again 
suggesting  that  I  was  on  the  losing  side,  and 
had  my  reasons  for  lying  near  Spain.  Before 
he  had  done  scratching  his  head  over  it,  the  clat- 
ter of  hoofs  broke  the  sleepy  quiet  of  the  vil- 
lage street,  and  the  lady  I  had  seen  the  night 
before  rode  quickly  round  the  corner,  and  drew 
her  horse  on  to  its  haunches.  Without  looking 
at  me,  she  called  to  the  innkeeper  to  come  to 
her  stirrup. 

He  went.     The  moment  his  back  was  turned, 


48  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

I  slipped  away,  and  in  a  twinkling  was  hidden 
by  a  house.  Two  or  three  glum-looking  fellows 
stared  at  me  as  I  passed,  but  no  one  moved ;  and 
in  two  minutes  I  was  clear  of  the  village,  and  in 
a  half-worn  track  which  ran  through  the  wood, 
and  led  —  if  my  ideas  were  right  —  to  the  Cha- 
teau. To  discover  the  house  and  learn  all  that 
was  to  be  learned  about  its  situation  was  my 
most  pressing  need  :  even  at  the  risk  of  a  knife- 
thrust,  I  was  determined  to  satisfy  it. 

I  had  not  gone  two  hundred  paces  along  the 
path  before  I  heard  the  tread  of  a  horse  behind 
me,  and  I  had  just  time  to  hide  myself  before 
Madame  came  up  and  rode  by  me,  sitting  her 
horse  gracefully,  and  with  all  the  courage  of  a 
northern  woman.  I  watched  her  pass,  and  then, 
assured  by  her  presence  that  I  was  in  the  right 
road,  I  hurried  after  her.  Two  minutes'  walking 
at  speed  brought  me  to  a  light  wooden  bridge 
spanning  a  stream.  I  crossed  this,  and,  the  wood 
opening,  saw  before  me  first  a  wide,  pleasant 
meadow,  and  beyond  this  a  terrace.  On  the  ter- 
race, pressed  upon  on  three  sides  by  thick  woods, 
stood  a  grey  mansion,  with  the  corner  tourelles, 


AT  THE  GREEN"  PILLAR.  49 

steep,  high  roofs,  and  round  balconies  that  men 
loved  and  built  in  the  days  of  the  first  Francis. 

It  was  of  good  size,  but  wore,  I  fancied,  a 
gloomy  aspect.  A  great  yew  hedge,  which  seemed 
to  enclose  a  walk  or  bowling-green,  hid  the  ground 
floor  of  the  east  wing  from  view,  while  a  formal 
rose  garden,  stiff  even  in  neglect,  lay  in  front  of 
the  main  building.  The  west  wing,  whose  lower 
roofs  fell  gradually  away  to  the  woods,  probably 
contained  the  stables  and  granaries. 

I  stood  a  moment  only,  but  I  marked  all,  and 
noted  how  the  road  reached  the  house,  and  which 
windows  were  open  to  attack ;  then  I  turned  and 
hastened  back.  Fortunately,  I  met  no  one  be- 
tween the  house  and  the  village,  and  was  able  to 
enter  the  inn  with  an  air  of  the  most  complete 
innocence. 

Short  as  had  been  my  absence,  I  found  things 
altered  there.  Round  the  door  loitered  and  chat- 
tered three  strangers  —  stout,  well-armed  fellows, 
whose  bearing  suggested  a  curious  mixture  of 
smugness  and  independence.  Half-a-dozen  pack- 
horses  stood  tethered  to  the  post  in  front  of  the 
house;  and  the  landlord's  manner,  from  being 

£ 


SO  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

rude  and  churlish  only,  had  grown  perplexed  and 
almost  timid.  One  of  the  strangers,  I  soon  found, 
supplied  him  with  wine  ;  the  others  were  travel- 
ling merchants,  who  rode  in  the  first  one's  com- 
pany for  the  sake  of  safety.  All  were  substantial 
men  from  Tarbes  —  solid  burgesses;  and  I  was 
not  long  in  guessing  that  my  host,  fearing  what 
might  leak  out  before  them,  and  particularly  that 
I  might  refer  to  the  previous  night's  disturbance, 
was  on  tenterhooks  while  they  remained. 

For  a  time  this  did  not  suggest  anything  to  me. 
But  when  we  had  all  taken  our  seats  for  supper 
there  came  an  addition  to  the  party.  The  door 
opened,  and  the  fellow  whom  I  had  seen  the  night 
before  with  Madame  de  Cochefore"t  entered,  and 
took  a  stool  by  the  fire.  I  felt  sure  that  he  was 
one  of  the  servants  at  the  Chateau ;  and  in  a  flash 
his  presence  inspired  me  with  the  most  feasible 
plan  for  obtaining  admission  which  I  had  yet  hit 
upon.  I  felt  myself  growing  hot  at  the  thought 
—  it  seemed  so  full  of  promise  and  of  danger  — 
and  on  the  instant,  without  giving  myself  time 
to  think  too  much,  I  began  to  carry  it  into 
effect. 


AT  THE  GREEK  PILLAR.  5 1 

I  called  for  two  or  three  bottles  of  better  wine, 
and,  assuming  a  jovial  air,  passed  it  round  the 
table.  When  we  had  drunk  a  few  glasses,  I  fell 
to  talking,  and,  choosing  politics,  took  the  side 
of  the  Languedoc  party  and  the  malcontents,  in 
so  reckless  a  fashion  that  the  innkeeper  was 
beside  himself  at  my  imprudence.  The  mer- 
chants, who  belonged  to  the  class  with  whom  the 
Cardinal  was  always  most  popular,  looked  first 
astonished  and  then  enraged.  But  I  was  not  to 
be  checked.  Hints  and  sour  looks  were  lost  upon 
me.  I  grew  more  outspoken  with  every  glass,  I 
drank  to  the  Rochellois,  I  swore  it  would  not  be 
long  before  they  raised  their  heads  again ;  and  at 
last,  while  the  innkeeper  and  his  wife  were  en- 
gaged lighting  the  lamp,  I  passed  round  the 
bottle  and  called  on  all  for  a  toast. 

"  I'll  give  you  one  to  begin,"  I  bragged  noisily. 
"  A  gentleman's  toast !  A  southern  toast !  Here 
is  confusion  to  the  Cardinal,  and  a  health  to  all 
who  hate  him  !  " 

"  Mon  Dieu ! "  one  of  the  strangers  cried, 
springing  from  his  seat  in  a  rage.  "  I  am  not 
going  to  stomach  that !  Is  your  house  a  common 

E    2 


52  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

treason-hole,"  he  continued,  turning  furiously  on 
the  landlord,  "that  you  suffer  this?" 

"  Hoity-toity !  "  I  answered,  coolly  keeping  my 
seat.  "  What  is  all  this  ?  Don't  you  relish  my 
toast,  little  man?" 

"  No  —  nor  you !  "  he  retorted  hotly,  "  whoever 
you  may  be  !  " 

"Then  I  will  give  you  another,"  I  answered, 
with  a  hiccough.  "  Perhaps  it  will  be  more  to 
your  taste.  Here  is  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and 
may  he  soon  be  King!" 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   HOUSE    IN   THE   WOOD. 

MY  words  fairly  startled  the  three  men  out  of 
their  anger.  For  a  moment  they  glared  at  me 
as  if  they  had  seen  a  ghost.  Then  the  wine- 
merchant  clapped  his  hand  on  the  table.  "  That 
is  enough ! "  he  said,  with  a  look  at  his  com- 
panions. "  I  think  there  can  be  no  mistake 
about  that.  As  damnable  treason  as  ever  I 
heard  whispered !  I  congratulate  you,  Sir,  on 
your  boldness.  As  for  you,"  he  continued,  turn- 
ing with  an  ugly  sneer  to  the  landlord,  "I 
shall  know  now  the  company  you  keep !  I  was 
not  aware  that  my  wine  wet  whistles  to  such 
a  tune!" 

But  if  he  was  startled,  the  innkeeper  was 
furious,  seeing  his  character  thus  taken  away; 
and,  being  at  no  time  a  man  of  many  words,  he 
vented  his  rage  exactly  in  the  way  I  wished.  In 

53 


54  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

a  twinkling  he  raised  such  an  uproar  as  can 
scarcely  be  conceived.  With  a  roar  like  a  bull's 
he  ran  headlong  at  the  table,  and  overturned  it 
on  the  top  of  me.  The  woman  saved  the  lamp 
and  fled  with  it  into  a  corner,  whence  she  and 
the  man  from  the  Chateau  watched  the  skirmish 
in  silence ;  but  the  pewter  cups  and  platters 
flew  spinning  across  the  floor,  while  the  table 
pinned  me  to  the  ground  among  the  ruins  of  my 
stool.  Having  me  at  this  disadvantage  —  for  at 
first  I  made  no  resistance  —  the  landlord  began 
to  belabour  me  with  the  first  thing  he  snatched 
up,  and  when  I  tried  to  defend  myself  cursed 
me  with  each  blow  for  a  treacherous  rogue  and 
a  vagrant.  Meanwhile,  the  three  merchants, 
delighted  with  the  turn  things  had  taken,  skipped 
round  us  laughing;  and  now  hounded  him  on, 
now  bantered  me  with  "  How  is  that  for  the 
Duke  of  Orleans  ?  "  and  "  How  now,  traitor  ?  " 

When  I  thought  this  had  lasted  long  enough 
—  or,  to  speak  more  plainly,  when  I  could  stand 
the  innkeeper's  drubbing  no  longer  —  I  threw 
him  off  by  a  great  effort,  and  struggled  to  my 
feet.  But  still,  though  the  blood  was  trickling 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE   WOOD.  55 

down  my  face,  I  refrained  from  drawing  my 
sword.  I  caught  up  instead  a  leg  of  the  stool 
which  lay  handy,  and,  watching  my  opportunity, 
dealt  the  landlord  a  shrewd  blow  under  the  ear, 
which  laid  him  out  in  a  moment  on  the  wreck 
of  his  own  table. 

"  Now !  "  I  cried,  brandishing  my  new  weapon, 
which  fitted  the  hand  to  a  nicety,  "  come  on ! 
Come  on,  if  you  dare  to  strike  a  blow,  you  ped- 
dling, truckling,  huckstering  knaves !  A  fig  for 
you  and  your  shaveling  Cardinal ! " 

The  red-faced  wine-merchant  drew  his  sword 
in  a  one-two.  "  Why,  you  drunken  fool,"  he 
said  wrathfully,  "put  that  stick  down,  or  I  will 
spit  you  like  a  lark !  " 

"  Lark  in  your  teeth ! "  I  cried,  staggering  as 
if  the  wine  were  in  my  head.  "Another  word, 
and  I  —  " 

He  made  a  couple  of  savage  passes  at  me,  but 
in  a  twinkling  his  sword  flew  across  the  room. 

"  Voila ! "  I  shouted,  lurching  forward,  as  if  I 
had  luck  and  not  skill  to  thank  for  it.  "  Now 
the  next !  Come  on,  come  on  —  you  white-livered 
knaves ! "  And,  pretending  a  drunken  frenzy, 


$6  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

I  flung  my  weapon  bodily  amongst  them,  and 
seizing  the  nearest,  began  to  wrestle  with  him. 

In  a  moment  they  all  threw  themselves  upon 
me,  and,  swearing  copiously,  bore  me  back  to 
the  door.  The  wine-merchant  cried  breathlessly 
to  the  woman  to  open  it,  and  in  a  twinkling 
they  had  me  through  it  and  half  way  across 
the  road.  The  one  thing  I  feared  was  a  knife- 
thrust  in  the  metee ;  but  I  had  to  run  that  risk, 
and  the  men  were  honest  enough  and,  thinking 
me  drunk,  indulgent.  In  a  trice  I  found  myself 
on  my  back  in  the  dirt,  with  my  head  humming ; 
and  heard  the  bars  of  the  door  fall  noisily  into 
their  places. 

I  got  up  and  went  to  the  door,  and,  to  play 
out  my  part,  hammered  on  it  frantically,  crying 
out  to  them  to  let  me  in.  But  the  three  trav- 
ellers only  jeered  at  me,  and  the  landlord,  com- 
ing to  the  window,  with  his  head  bleeding,  shook 
his  fist  at  me  and  cursed  me  for  a  mischief- 
maker. 

Baffled  in  this  I  retired  to  a  log  which  lay 
in  the  road  a  few  paces  from  the  house,  and 
sat  down  on  it  to  await  events.  With  torn 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD.  $? 

clothes  and  bleeding  face,  hatless  and  covered 
with  dirt,  I  was  in  scarcely  better  case  than 
my  opponent.  It  was  raining,  too,  and  the 
dripping  branches  swayed  over  my  head.  The 
wind  was  in  the  south  —  the  coldest  quarter. 
I  began  to  feel  chilled  and  dispirited.  If  my 
scheme  failed,  I  had  forfeited  roof  and  bed  to 
no  purpose,  and  placed  future  progress  out  of 
the  question.  It  was  a  critical  moment. 

But  at  last  that  happened  for  which  I  had 
been  looking.  The  door  swung  open  a  few 
inches,  and  a  man  came  noiselessly  out;  the 
door  was  quickly  barred  behind  him.  He  stood 
a  moment,  waiting  on  the  threshold  and  peering 
into  the  gloom;  and  seemed  to  expect  to  be 
attacked.  Finding  himself  unmolested,  however, 
and  all  quiet,  he  went  off  steadily  down  the  street 
—  towards  the  Chateau. 

I  let  a  couple  of  minutes  go  by  and  then  I 
followed.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  hitting  on  the 
track  at  the  end  of  the  street,  but  when  I  had 
once  plunged  into  the  wood,  I  found  myself  in 
darkness  so  intense  that  I  soon  strayed  from 
the  path,  and  fell  over  roots,  and  tore  my 


58  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

clothes  with  thorns,  and  lost  my  temper  twenty 
times  before  I  found  the  path  again.  However,  I 
gained  the  bridge  at  last,  and  caught  sight  of  a 
light  twinkling  before  me.  To  make  for  it  across 
the  meadow  and  terrace  was  an  easy  task;  yet 
when  I  had  reached  the  door  and  had  hammered 
upon  it,  I  was  in  so  sorry  a  plight  that  I  sank 
down,  and  had  no  need  to  play  a  part  or  pretend 
to  be  worse  than  I  was. 

For  a  long  time  no  one  answered.  The  dark 
house  towering  above  me  remained  silent.  1 
could  hear,  mingled  with  the  throbbings  of  my 
heart,  the  steady  croaking  of  the  frogs  in  a  pond 
near  the  stables ;  but  no  other  sound.  In  a  frenzy 
of  impatience  and  disgust  I  stood  up  again  and 
hammered,  kicking  with  my  heels  on  the  nail- 
studded  door,  and  crying  out  desperately,  "A  moi! 
A  moi  !  " 

Then,  or  a  moment  later,  I  heard  a  remote  door 
opened ;  footsteps  as  of  more  than  one  person 
drew  near.  I  raised  my  voice  and  cried  again, 
"A  moi!" 

"  Who  is  there  ? "  a  voice  asked. 

"A  gentleman  in  distress,"  I  answered  piteously> 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE   WOOD.  59 

moving  my  hands  across  the  door.  "  For  God's 
sake  open  and  let  me  in.  I  am  hurt,  and  dying 
of  cold." 

"What  brings  you  here?"  the  voice  asked 
sharply.  Despite  its  tartness,  I  fancied  it  was  a 
woman's. 

"  Heaven  knows !  "  I  answered  desperately.  "  I 
cannot  tell.  They  maltreated  me  at  the  inn,  and 
threw  me  into  the  street.  I  crawled  away,  and 
have  been  wandering  in  the  wood  for  hours. 
Then  I  saw  a  light  here." 

Thereon,  some  muttering  took  place  on  the 
other  side  of  the  door,  to  which  I  had  my  ear. 
It  ended  in  the  bars  being  lowered.  The  door 
swung  partly  open  and  a  light  shone  out,  dazzling 
me.  I  tried  to  shade  my  eyes  with  my  ringers, 
and  as  I  did  so  fancied  I  heard  a  murmur  of  pity. 
But  when  I  looked  in  under  screen  of  my  hand  I 
saw  only  one  person  —  the  man  who  held  the 
light,  and  his  aspect  was  so  strange,  so  terrify- 
ing, that,  shaken  as  I  was  by  fatigue,  I  recoiled 
a  step. 

He  was  a  tall  and  very  thin  man,  meanly 
dressed  in  a  short  scanty  jacket  and  well-darned 


60  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

hose.  Unable,  for  some  reason,  to  bend  his  neck, 
he  carried  his  head  with  a  strange  stiffness. 

And  that  head !  Never  did  living  man  show  a 
face  so  like  death.  His  forehead  was  bald  and 
white,  his  cheek-bones  stood  out  under  the  strained 
skin,  all  the  lower  part  of  his  face  fell  in,  his  jaws 
receded,  his  cheeks  were  hollow,  his  lips  and  chin 
were  thin  and  fleshless.  He  seemed  to  have  only 
one  expression  —  a  fixed  grin. 

While  I  stood  looking  at  this  formidable  crea- 
ture he  made  a  quick  motion  to  shut  the  door 
again,  smiling  more  widely.  I  had  the  presence 
of  mind  to  thrust  in  my  foot,  and,  before  he  could 
resent  the  act,  a  voice  in  the  background  cried  : 
"  For  shame,  Clon !  Stand  back.  Stand  back,  do 
you  hear?  I  am  afraid,  Monsieur,  that  you  are 
hurt." 

The  last  words  were  my  welcome  to  that  house ; 
and,  spoken  at  an  hour  and  in  circumstances  so 
gloomy,  they  made  a  lasting  impression.  Round 
the  hall  ran  a  gallery,  and  this,  the  height  of  the 
apartment,  and  the  dark  panelling  seemed  to  swal- 
low up  the  light.  I  stood  within  the  entrance  (as 
it  seemed  to  me)  of  a  huge  cave ;  the  skull-headed 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD.  61 

porter  had  the  air  of  an  ogre.  Only  the  voice 
which  greeted  me  dispelled  the  illusion.  I  turned 
trembling  towards  the  quarter  whence  it  came, 
and,  shading  my  eyes,  made  out  a  woman's  form 
standing  in  a  doorway  under  the  gallery.  A 
second  figure,  which  I  took  to  be  that  of  the 
servant  I  had  seen  at  the  inn,  loomed  uncer- 
tainly beside  her. 

I  bowed  in  silence.  My  teeth  were  chattering. 
I  was  faint  without  feigning,  and  felt  a  kind  of 
terror,  hard  to  explain,  at  the  sound  of  this 
woman's  voice. 

"One  of  our  people  has  told  me  about  you," 
she  continued,  speaking  out  of  the  darkness.  "  I 
am  sorry  that  this  has  happened  to  you  here,  but 
I  am  afraid  that  you  were  indiscreet." 

"  I  take  all  the  blame,  Madame,"  I  answered 
humbly.  "  I  ask  only  shelter  for  the  night." 

"The  time  has  not  yet  come  when  we  cannot 
give  our  friends  that !  "  she  answered,  with  noble 
courtesy.  "  When  it  does,  Monsieur,  we  shall  be 
homeless  ourselves." 

I  shivered,  looking  anywhere  but  at  her;  for  I 
had  not  sufficiently  pictured  this  scene  of  my 


62  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

arrival  —  I  had  not  foreseen  its  details ;  and  now 
I  took  part  in  it  I  felt  a  miserable  meanness  weigh 
me  down.  I  had  never  from  the  first  liked  the 
work !  But,  I  had  had  no  choice.  And  I  had  no 
choice  now.  Luckily,  the  guise  in  which  I  came, 
my  fatigue,  and  wound  were  a  sufficient  mark,  or 
I  should  have  incurred  suspicion  at  once.  For  I 
am  sure  that  if  ever  in  this  world  a  brave  man 
wore  a  hang-dog  air,  or  Gil  de  Berault  fell  below 
himself,  it  was  then  and  there  —  on  Madame  de 
Cocheforet's  threshold,  with  he.r  welcome  sounding 
in  my  ears. 

One,  I  think,  did  suspect  me.  Clon,  the  porter, 
continued  to  hold  the  door  obstinately  ajar  and  to 
eye  me  with  grinning  spite,  until  his  mistress, 
with  some  sharpness,  bade  him  drop  the  bars, 
and  conduct  me  to  a  room. 

"  Do  you  go  also,  Louis,"  she  continued,  speak- 
ing to  the  man  beside  her,  "  and  see  this  gentle- 
man comfortably  disposed.  I  am  sorry,"  she 
added,  addressing  me  in  the  graceful  tone  she 
had  before  used,  and  I  thought  I  could  see  her 
head  bend  in  the  darkness,  "  that  our  present  cir- 
cumstances do  not  permit  us  to  welcome  you  more 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD.  6$ 

fitly,  Monsieur.  But  the  troubles  of  the  times  — 
however,  you  will  excuse  what  is  lacking.  Until 
to-morrow,  I  have  the  honour  to  bid  you  good- 
night." 

"  Good-night,  Madame,"  I  stammered,  trem- 
bling. I  had  not  been  able  to  distinguish  her 
face  in  the  gloom  of  the  doorway,  but  her  voice, 
her  greeting,  her  presence,  unmanned  me.  I  was 
troubled  and  perplexed;  I  had  not  spirit  to  kick 
a  dog.  I  followed  the  two  servants  from  the  hall 
without  heeding  how  we  went ;  nor  was  it  until  we 
came  to  a  full  stop  at  a  door  in  a  whitewashed 
corridor,  and  it  was  forced  upon  me  that  some- 
thing was  in  question  between  my  two  conductors, 
that  I  began  to  take  notice. 

Then  I  saw  that  one  of  them,  Louis,  wished  to 
lodge  me  here  where  we  stood.  The  porter,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  held  the  keys,  would  not. 
He  did  not  speak  a  word,  nor  did  the  other  — 
and  this  gave  a  queer  ominous  character  to  the 
debate ;  but  he  continued  to  jerk  his  head  towards 
the  farther  end  of  the  corridor,  and,  at  last,  he 
carried  his  point.  Louis  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  moved  on,  glancing  askance  at  me;  and  I, 


64  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

not  understanding  the  matter  in  debate,  followed 
the  pair  in  silence. 

We  reached  the  end  of  the  corridor,  and  there, 
for  an  instant,  the  monster  with  the  keys  paused 
and  grinned  at  me.  Then  he  turned  into  a  narrow 
passage  on  the  left,  and  after  following  it  for  some 
paces,  halted  before  a  small,  strong  door.  His  key 
jarred  in  the  lock,  but  he  forced  it  shrieking  round, 
and  with  a  savage  flourish  threw  the  door  open. 

I  walked  in  and  saw  a  mean,  bare  chamber 
with  barred  windows.  The  floor  was  indifferently 
clean,  there  was  no  furniture.  The  yellow  light 
of  the  lanthorn  falling  on  the  stained  walls  gave 
the  place  the  look  of  a  dungeon.  I  turned  to  the 
two  men.  "  This  is  not  a  very  good  room,"  I  said. 
"And  it  feels  damp.  Have  you  no  other?" 

Louis  looked  doubtfully  at  his  companion.  But 
the  porter  shook  his  head  stubbornly. 

"  Why  does  he  not  speak  ?  "  I  asked  with 
impatience. 

"He  is  dumb,"  Louis  answered. 

"Dumb!"    I  exclaimed.     "But  he  hears." 

"  He  has  ears,"  the  servant  answered  drily. 
"  But  he  has  no  tongue,  Monsieur." 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD.  65 

I  shuddered.     "  How  did  he  lose  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  At  Rochelle.  He  was  a  spy,  and  the  King's 
people  took  him  the  day  the  town  surrendered. 
They  spared  his  life,  but  cut  out  his  tongue." 

"Ah !  "  I  said.  I  wished  to  say  more,  to  be 
natural,  to  show  myself  at  my  ease.  But  the 
porter's  eyes  seemed  to  burn  into  me,  and  my 
own  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth.  He 
opened  his  lips  and  pointed  to  his  throat  with  a 
horrid  gesture,  and  I  shook  my  head  and  turned 
from  him  —  "  You  can  let  me  have  some  bed- 
ding ? "  I  murmured  hastily,  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something,  and  to  escape. 

"  Of  course,  Monsieur,"  Louis  answered.  "  I 
will  fetch  some." 

He  went  away,  thinking  doubtless  that  Clon 
would  stay  with  me.  But  after  waiting  a  min- 
ute the  porter  strode  off  also  with  the  lanthorn, 
leaving  me  to  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  damp, 
dark  room,  and  reflect  on  the  position.  It  was 
plain  that  Clon  suspected  me.  This  prison-like 
room,  with  its  barred  window  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  and  in  the  wing  farthest  from  the  stables, 
proved  so  much.  Clearly,  he  was  a  dangerous 


66  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

fellow,  of  whom  I  must  beware.  I  had  just 
begun  to  wonder  how  Madame  could  keep  such 
a  monster  in  her  house,  when  I  heard  his  step 
returning.  He  came  in,  lighting  Louis,  who  car- 
ried a  small  pallet  and  a  bundle  of  coverings. 

The  dumb  man  had,  besides  the  lanthorn,  a 
bowl  of  water  and  a  piece  of  rag  in  his  hand. 
He  set  them  down,  and  going  out  again,  fetched 
in  a  stool.  Then  he  hung  up  the  lanthorn  on 
a  nail,  took  the  bowl  and  rag,  and  invited  me  to 
sit  down. 

I  was  loth  to  let  him  touch  me ;  but  he  con- 
tinued to  stand  over  me,  pointing  and  grinning 
with  dark  persistence,  and,  rather  than  stand  on 
a  trifle,  I  sat  down  at  last,  and  gave  him  his  way. 
He  bathed  my  head  carefully  enough,  and  I  dare 
say  did  it  good;  but  I  understood.  I  knew  that 
his  only  desire  was  to  learn  whether  the  cut  was 
real  or  a  pretence.  I  began  to  fear  him  more 
and  more,  and,  until  he  was  gone  from  the  room, 
dared  scarcely  lift  my  face,  lest  he  should  read 
too  much  in  it. 

Alone,  even,  I  felt  uncomfortable.  This  seemed 
so  sinister  a  business,  and  so  ill  begun.  I  was 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD.  67 

in  the  house.  But  Madame's  frank  voice  haunted 
me,  and  the  dumb  man's  eyes,  full  of  suspicion 
and  menace.  When  I  presently  got  up  and  tried 
my  door,  I  found  it  locked.  The  room  smelled 
dank  and  close  —  like  a  vault.  I  could  not  see 
through  the  barred  window;  but  I  could  hear 
the  boughs  sweep  it  in  ghostly  fashion ;  and  I 
guessed  that  it  looked  out  where  the  wood  grew 
close  to  the  walls  of  the  house ;  and  that  even  in 
the  day  the  sun  never  peeped  through  it. 

Nevertheless,  tired  and  worn  out,  I  slept  at 
last.  When  I  awoke  the  room  was  full  of  grey 
light,  the  door  stood  open,  and  Louis,  looking 
ashamed  of  himself,  waited  by  my  pallet  with  a 
cup  of  wine  in  his  hand,  and  some  bread  and 
fruit  on  a  platter. 

"  Will  Monsieur  be  good  enough  to  rise  ? " 
he  said.  "  It  is  eight  o'clock." 

"Willingly,"  I  answered  tartly.  "  Now  that  the 
door  is  unlocked." 

He  turned  red.  "  It  was  an  oversight,"  he 
stammered.  "  Clon  is  accustomed  to  lock  the 
door,  and  he  did  it  inadvertently,  forgetting  that 
there  was  any  one  —  " 

r  2 


68  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  Inside  !  "  I  said  drily. 

"  Precisely,  Monsieur." 

"Ah!"  I  replied.  "Well,  I  do  not  think  the 
oversight  would  please  Madame  de  Cocheforet, 
if  she  heard  of  it?" 

"  If  Monsieur  would  have  the  kindness  not 
to  —  " 

"  Mention  it,  my  good  fellow  ? "  I  answered, 
looking  at  him  with  meaning,  as  I  rose.  "  No ; 
but  it  must  not  occur  again." 

I  saw  that  this  man  was  not  like  Clon.  He 
had  the  instincts  of  the  family  servant,  and  freed 
from  the  influences  of  darkness,  felt  ashamed  of 
his  conduct.  While  he  arranged  my  clothes,  he 
looked  round  the  room  with  an  air  of  distaste, 
and  muttered  once  or  twice  that  the  furniture  of 
the  principal  chambers  was  packed  away. 

"  M.  de  Cocheforet  is  abroad,  I  think  ? "  I  said, 
as  I  dressed. 

"  And  likely  to  remain  there,"  the  man  answered 
carelessly,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  Monsieur 
will  doubtless  have  heard  that  he  is  in  trouble. 
In  the  meantime,  the  house  is  triste,  and  Mon- 
sieur must  overlook  much,  if  he  stays.  Madame 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE   WOOD.  69 

lives  retired,  and  the  roads  are  ill-made  and  visi- 
tors few." 

"  When  the  lion  was  ill  the  jackals  left  him,"  I 
said. 

Louis  nodded.  "  It  is  true,"  he  answered 
simply.  He  made  no  boast  or  brag  on  his  own 
account,  I  noticed ;  and  it  came  home  to  me  that 
he  was  a  faithful  fellow,  such  as  I  love.  I  ques- 
tioned him  discreetly,  and  learned  that  he  and 
Clon  and  an  older  man  who  lived  over  the  sta- 
bles were  the  only  male  servants  left  of  a  great 
household.  Madame,  her  sister-in-law,  and  three 
women  completed  the  family. 

It  took  me  some  time  to  repair  my  wardrobe,  so 
that  I  dare  say  it  was  nearly  ten  when  I  left  my 
dismal  little  room.  I  found  Louis  waiting  in  the 
corridor,  and  he  told  me  that  Madame  de  Coche- 
foret  and  Mademoiselle  were  in  the  rose-garden, 
and  would  be  pleased  to  receive  me.  I  nodded, 
and  he  guided  me  through  several  dim  passages 
to  a  parlour  with  an  open  door,  through  which 
the  sun  shone  in  gaily.  Cheered  by  the  morning 
air  and  this  sudden  change  to  pleasantness  and 
life,  I  stepped  lightly  out. 


70  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

The  two  ladies  were  walking  up  and  down 
a  wide  path  which  bisected  the  garden.  The 
weeds  grew  rankly  in  the  gravel  underfoot,  the 
rose-bushes  which  bordered  the  walk  thrust  their 
branches  here  and  there  in  untrained  freedom, 
a  dark  yew  hedge  which  formed  the  background 
bristled  with  rough  shoots  and  sadly  needed  trim- 
ming. But  I  did  not  see  any  of  these  things  then. 
The  grace,  the  noble  air,  the  distinction  of  the  two 
women  who  paced  slowly  to  meet  me  —  and  who 
shared  all  these  qualities  greatly  as  they  differed 
in  others  —  left  me  no  power  to  notice  trifles. 

Mademoiselle  was  a  head  shorter  than  her  belle 
saur —  a  slender  woman  and  petite,  with  a  beauti- 
ful face  and  a  fair  complexion.  She  walked  with 
dignity,  but  beside  Madame's  stately  figure  she 
seemed  almost  childish.  And  it  was  character- 
istic of  the  two  that  Mademoiselle  as  they  drew 
near  to  me  regarded  me  with  sorrowful  attention, 
Madame  with  a  grave  smile. 

I  bowed  low.  They  returned  the  salute. 
"  This  is  my  sister,"  Madame  de  Cocheforet  said, 
with  a  slight,  a  very  slight  air  of  condescension. 
"  Will  you  please  to  tell  me  your  name,  Monsieur  ?  " 


I  am  M.  de  Barthe,  a  gentleman  of  Normandy." 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE   WOOD.  71 

"I  am  M.  de  Barthe,  a  gentleman  of  Nor- 
mandy," I  said,  taking  the  name  of  my  mother. 
My  own,  by  a  possibility,  might  be  known. 

Madame's  face  wore  a  puzzled  look.  "  I  do  not 
know  your  name,  I  think,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 
Doubtless  she  was  going  over  in  her  mind  all 
the  names  with  which  conspiracy  had  made  her 
familiar. 

"That  is  my  misfortune,  Madame,"  I  said 
humbly. 

"  Nevertheless  I  am  going  to  scold  you,"  she 
rejoined,  still  eyeing  me  with  some  keenness.  "  I 
am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  none  the  worse  for 
your  adventure  —  but  others  may  be.  And  you 
should  have  borne  that  in  mind." 

"I  do  not  think  that  I  hurt  the  man  seriously," 
I  stammered. 

"  I  do  not  refer  to  that,"  she  answered  coldly. 
"You  know,  or  should  know,  that  we  are  in  dis- 
grace here ;  that  the  Government  regards  us 
already  with  an  evil  eye,  and  that  a  very  small 
thing  would  lead  them  to  garrison  the  village  and 
perhaps  oust  us  from  the  little  the  wars  have  left 
us.  You  should  have  known  this  and  considered 


/2  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

it,"  she  continued.  "  Whereas  —  I  do  not  say  that 
you  are  a  braggart,  M.  de  Barthe.  But  on  this 
one  occasion  you  seem  to  have  played  the  part 
of  one." 

"  Madame,  I  did  not  think,"  I  stammered. 

"Want  of  thought  causes  much  evil,"  she  an- 
swered, smiling.  "  However,  I  have  spoken,  and 
we  trust  that  while  you  stay  with  us  you  will 
be  more  careful.  For  the  rest,  Monsieur,"  she 
continued  graciously,  raising  her  hand  to  prevent 
me  speaking,  "  we  do  not  know  why  you  are  here, 
or  what  plans  you  are  pursuing.  And  we  do  not 
wish  to  know.  It  is  enough  that  you  are  of  our 
side.  This  house  is  at  your  service  as  long  as  you 
please  to  use  it.  And  if  we  can  aid  you  in  any 
other  way  we  will  do  so." 

"  Madame !  "  I  exclaimed ;  and  there  I  stopped. 
I  could  not  say  any  more.  The  rose-garden,  with 
its  air  of  neglect,  the  shadow  of  the  quiet  house 
that  fell  across  it,  the  great  yew  hedge  which 
backed  it,  and  was  the  pattern  of  one  under 
which  I  had  played  in  childhood  —  all  had  points 
that  pricked  me.  But  the  women's  kindness, 
their  unquestioning  confidence,  the  noble  air  of 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD.  73 

hospitality  which  moved  them!  Against  these 
and  their  placid  beauty  in  its  peaceful  frame  I 
had  no  shield.  I  turned  away,  and  feigned  to 
be  overcome  by  gratitude.  "  I  have  no  words 
—  to  thank  you!"  I  muttered  presently.  "I  am 
a  little  shaken  this  morning.  I  —  pardon  me." 

"We  will  leave  you  for  a  while,"  Mademoiselle 
de  Cocheforet  said,  in  gentle,  pitying  tones. 
"The  air  will  revive  you.  Louis  shall  call  you 
when  we  go  to  dinner,  M.  de  Barthe.  Come, 
Elise." 

I  bowed  low  to  hide  my  face,  and  they  nodded 
pleasantly  —  not  looking  closely  at  me  —  as  they 
walked  by  me  to  the  house.  I  watched  the  two 
gracious,  pale-robed  figures  until  the  doorway 
swallowed  them,  and  then  I  walked  away  to  a 
quiet  corner  where  the  shrubs  grew  highest  and 
the  yew  hedge  threw  its  deepest  shadow,  and  I 
stood  to  think. 

They  were  strange  thoughts,  I  remember.  If 
the  oak  can  think  at  the  moment  the  wind  uproots 
it,  or  the  gnarled  thorn-bush  when  the  landslip 
tears  it  from  the  slope,  they  may  have  such 
thoughts.  I  stared  at  the  leaves,  at  the  rotting 


74  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

blossoms,  into  the  dark  cavities  of  the  hedge ; 
I  stared  mechanically,  dazed  and  wondering. 
What  was  the  purpose  for  which  I  was  here  ? 
What  was  the  worlc  I  had  come  to  do  ?  Above 
all,  how  —  my  God !  how  was  I  to  do  it  in  the 
face  of  these  helpless  women,  who  trusted  me  — 
who  opened  their  house  to  me  ?  Clon  had  not 
frightened  me,  nor  the  loneliness  of  the  leagued 
village,  nor  the  remoteness  of  this  corner  where 
the  dread  Cardinal  seemed  a  name,  and  the  King's 
writ  ran  slowly,  and  the  rebellion,  long  quenched 
elsewhere,  still  smouldered.  But  Madame's  pure 
faith,  the  younger  woman's  tenderness  —  how  was 
I  to  face  these  ? 

I  cursed  the  Cardinal,  I  cursed  the  English 
fool  who  had  brought  me  to  this,  I  cursed  the 
years  of  plenty  and  scarceness  and  the  Quartier 
Marais,  and  Zaton's,  where  I  had  lived  like  a 
pig,  and  — 

A  touch  fell  on  my  arm.  I  turned.  It  was 
Clon.  How  he  had  stolen  up  so  quietly,  how 
long  he  had  been  at  my  elbow,  I  could  not  tell. 
But  his  eyes  gleamed  spitefully  in  their  deep 
sockets,  and  he  laughed  with  his  fleshless  lips; 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE   WOOD.  7$ 

and  I  hated  him.  In  the  daylight  the  man 
looked  more  like  a  death's-head  than  ever.  I 
fancied  I  read  in  his  face  that  he  knew  my 
secret,  and  I  flashed  into  rage  at  sight  of 
him. 

"What  is  it?"  I  cried,  with  •  another  oath. 
"  Don't  lay  your  corpse-claws  on  me ! " 

He  mowed  at  me,  and,  bowing  with  ironical 
politeness,  pointed  to  the  house.  "  Is  Madame 
served  ? "  I  said  impatiently,  crushing  down  my 
anger.  "  Is  that  what  you  mean,  fool  ? " 

He  nodded. 

"  Very  well,"  I  retorted.  "  I  can  find  my  way, 
then.  You  may  go !  " 

He  fell  behind,  and  I  strode  back  through  the 
sunshine  and  flowers,  and  along  the  grass-grown 
paths,  to  the  door  by  which  I  had  come.  I 
walked  fast,  but  his  shadow  kept  pace  with  me, 
driving  out  the  strange  thoughts  in  which  I  had 
been  indulging.  Slowly  but  surely  it  darkened 
my  mood.  After  all,  this  was  a  little,  little  place ; 
the  people  who  lived  here  —  I  shrugged  my 
shoulders.  France,  power,  pleasure,  life  lay  yon- 
der in  the  great  city.  A  boy  might  wreck  himself 


/6  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

here  for  a  fancy ;  a  man  of  the  world,  never. 
When  I  entered  the  room,  where  the  two  ladies 
stood  waiting  for  me  by  the  table,  I  was  myself 
again. 

"  Clon  made  you  understand,  then  ? "  the 
younger  woman  said  kindly. 

"  Yes,  Mademoiselle,"  I  answered.  On  which 
I  saw  the  two  smile  at  one  another,  and  I  added : 
"  He  is  a  strange  creature.  I  wonder  you  can 
bear  to  have  him  near  you." 

"  Poor  man  !  You  do  not  know  his  story  ? " 
Madame  said. 

"  I  have  heard  something  of  it,"  I  answered. 
"  Louis  told  me." 

"Well,  I  do  shudder  at  him,  sometimes,"  she 
replied,  in  a  low  voice.  "  He  has  suffered  — 
and  horribly,  and  for  us.  But  I  wish  it  had  been 
on  any  other  service.  Spies  are  necessary  things, 
but  one  does  not  wish  to  have  to  do  with  them ! 
Anything  in  the  nature  of  treachery  is  so  hor- 
rible." 

"Quick,  Louis!  the  cognac,  if  you  have  any 
there  !  "  Mademoiselle  exclaimed.  "  I  am  sure 
you  are  —  still  feeling  ill,  Monsieur." 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD.  77 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  I  muttered  hoarsely, 
making  an  effort  to  recover  myself.  "  I  am 
quite  well.  It  was  an  old  wound  that  sometimes 
touches  me." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MADAME   AND   MADEMOISELLE. 

To  be  frank,  however,  it  was  not  the  old  wound 
that  touched  me  so  nearly,  but  Madame's  words; 
which,  finishing  what  Clon's  sudden  appearance 
in  the  garden  had  begun,  went  a  long  way  towards 
hardening  me  and  throwing  me  back  into  myself. 
I  saw  with  bitterness  —  what  I  had  perhaps  for- 
gotten for  a  moment  —  how  great  was  the  chasm 
which  separated  me  from  these  women ;  how  im- 
possible it  was  we  could  long  think  alike ;  how  far 
apart  in  views,  in  experience,  in  aims  we  were. 
And  while  I  made  a  mock  in  my  heart  of  their 
high-flown  sentiments  —  or  thought  I  did  —  I 
laughed  no  less  at  the  folly  which  had  led  me 
to  dream,  even  for  a  moment,  that  I  could,  at  my 
age,  go  back  —  go  back  and  risk  all  for  a  whim, 
a  scruple,  the  fancy  of  a  lonely  hour. 

I  dare  say  something  of  this  showed  in  my  face; 
78 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.          79 

for  Madame's  eyes  mirrored  a  dim  reflection  of 
trouble  as  she  looked  at  me,  and  Mademoiselle  ate 
nervously  and  at  random.  At  any  rate,  I  fancied 
so,  and  I  hastened  to  compose  myself;  and  the 
two,  in  pressing  upon  me  the  simple  dainties  of 
the  table,  soon  forgot,  or  appeared  to  forget,  the 
incident. 

Yet  in  spite  of  this  contretemps,  that  first  meal 
had  a  strange  charm  for  me.  The  round  table 
whereat  we  dined  was  spread  inside  the  open  door 
which  led  to  the  garden,  so  that  the  October  sun- 
shine fell  full  on  the  spotless  linen  and  quaint  old 
plate,  and  the  fresh  balmy  air  filled  the  room  with 
the  scent  of  sweet  herbs.  Louis  served  us  with 
the  mien  of  major-domo,  and  set  on  each  dish  as 
though  it  had  been  a  peacock  or  a  mess  of  orto- 
lans. The  woods  provided  the  larger  portion  of 
our  meal ;  the  garden  did  its  part ;  the  confections 
Mademoiselle  had  cooked  with  her  own  hand. 

By-and-bye,  as  the  meal  went  on,  as  Louis  trod 
to  and  fro  across  the  polished  floor,  and  the  last 
insects  of  summer  hummed  sleepily  outside,  and 
the  two  gracious  faces  continued  to  smile  at  me 
out  of  the  gloom  —  for  the  ladies  sat  with  their 


80  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

backs  to  the  door  —  I  began  to  dream  again.  I 
began  to  sink  again  into  folly  —  that  was  half 
pleasure,  half  pain.  The  fury  of  the  gaming- 
house and  the  riot  of  Zaton's  seemed  far  away. 
The  triumphs  of  the  fencing-room  —  even  they 
grew  cheap  and  tawdry.  I  thought  of  existence 
as  one  outside  it.  I  balanced  this  against  that, 
and  wondered  whether,  after  all,  the  red  soutane 
were  so  much  better  than  the  homely  jerkin,  or 
the  fame  of  a  day  than  ease  and  safety. 

And  life  at  Cocheforet  was  all  after  the  pattern 
of  this  dinner.  Each  day,  I  might  almost  say 
each  meal,  gave  rise  to  the  same  sequence  of 
thoughts.  In  Clon's  presence,  or  when  some 
word  of  Madame's,  unconsciously  harsh,  reminded 
me  of  the  distance  between  us,  I  was  myself.  At 
other  times,  in  face  of  this  peaceful  and  intimate 
life,  which  was  only  rendered  possible  by  the 
remoteness  of  the  place  and  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances in  which  the  ladies  stood,  I  felt  a  strange 
weakness.  The  loneliness  of  the  woods  that  en- 
circled the  house,  and  here  and  there  afforded  a 
distant  glimpse  of  snow-clad  peaks;  the  absence 
of  any  link  to  bind  me  to  the  old  life,  so  that  at 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.          Si 

intervals  it  seemed  unreal ;  the  remoteness  of  the 
great  world,  all  tended  to  sap  my  will  and  weaken 
the  purpose  which  had  brought  me  to  this  place. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  my  coming,  however, 
something  happened  to  break  the  spell.  It  chanced 
that  I  came  late  to  dinner,  and  entered  the  room 
hastily  and  without  ceremony,  expecting  to  find 
Madame  and  her  sister  already  seated.  Instead, 
I  found  them  talking  in  a  low  tone  by  the  open 
door,  with  every  mark  of  disorder  in  their  appear- 
ance ;  while  Clon  and  Louis  stood  at  a  little  dis- 
tance with  downcast  faces  and  perplexed  looks. 

I  had  time  to  see  all  this,  and  then  my  en- 
trance wrought  a  sudden  change.  Clon  and  Louis 
sprang  to  attention ;  Madame  and  her  sister  came 
to  the  table  and  sat  down,  and  made  a  shallow 
pretence  of  being  at  their  ease.  But  Mademoi- 
selle's face  was  pale,  her  hand  trembled;  and 
though  Madame's  greater  self-command  enabled 
her  to  carry  off  the  matter  better,  I  saw  that  she 
was  not  herself.  Once  or  twice  she  spoke  harshly 
to  Louis ;  she  fell  at  other  times  into  a  brown 
study ;  and  when  she  thought  I  was  not  watching 
her,  her  face  wore  a  look  of  deep  anxiety. 


82  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

I  wondered  what  all  this  meant;  and  I  won- 
dered more  when,  after  the  meal,  the  two  walked 
in  the  garden  for  an  hour  with  Clon.  Mademoi- 
selle came  from  this  interview  alone,  and  I  was 
sure  that  she  had  been  weeping.  Madame  and 
the  dark  porter  stayed  outside  some  time  longer ; 
then  she,  too,  came  in,  and  disappeared. 

Clon  did  not  return  with  her,  and  when  I  went 
into  the  garden  five  minutes  later  Louis  also  had 
vanished.  Save  for  two  women  who  sat  sewing 
at  an  upper  window,  the  house  seemed  to  be 
deserted.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  afternoon  still- 
ness of  room  or  garden,  and  yet  I  felt  that  more 
was  happening  in  this  silence  than  appeared  on 
the  surface.  I  began  to  grow  curious  —  suspi- 
cious; and  presently  slipped  out  myself  by  way 
of  the  stables,  and,  skirting  the  wood  at  the 
back  of  the  house,  gained  with  a  little  trouble 
the  bridge  which  crossed  the  stream  and  led  to 
the  village. 

Turning  round  at  this  point,  I  could  see  the 
house,  and  I  moved  a  little  aside  into  the  under- 
wood, and  stood  gazing  at  the  windows,  trying 
to  unriddle  the  matter.  It  was  not  likely  that 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.  83 

M.  de  Cocheforet  would  repeat  his  visit  so  soon; 
and,  besides,  the  women's  emotions  had  been 
those  of  pure  dismay  and  grief,  unmixed  with 
any  of  the  satisfaction  to  which  such  a  meeting, 
though  snatched  by  stealth,  would  give  rise.  I 
discarded  my  first  thought,  therefore  —  that  he 
had  returned  unexpectedly  —  and  I  sought  for 
another  solution. 

But  none  was  on  the  instant  forthcoming.  The 
windows  remained  obstinately  blind,  no  figures 
appeared  on  the  terrace,  the  garden  lay  deserted, 
and  without  life.  My  departure  had  not,  as  I  half 
expected  it  would,  drawn  the  secret  into  light. 

I  watched  a  while,  at  times  cursing  my  own 
meanness;  but  the  excitement  of  the  moment 
and  the  quest  tided  me  over  that.  Then  I  de- 
termined to  go  down  into  the  village  and  see 
whether  anything  was  moving  there.  I  had  been 
down  to  the  inn  once,  and  had  been  received 
half  sulkily,  half  courteously,  as  a  person  privi- 
leged at  the  great  house,  and  therefore  to  be 
accepted.  It  would  not  be  thought  odd  if  I 
went  again;  and  after  a  moment's  thought, 
I  started  down  the  track. 

G  2 


84  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

This,  where  it  ran  through  the  wood,  was  so 
densely  shaded  that  the  sun  penetrated  to  it  little, 
and  in  patches  only.  A  squirrel  stirred  at  times, 
sliding  round  a  trunk,  or  scampering  across  the 
dry  leaves.  Occasionally  a  pig  grunted  and 
moved  farther  into  the  wood.  But  the  place 
was  very  quiet,  and  I  do  not  know  how  it  was 
that  I  surprised  Clon  instead  of  being  surprised 
by  him. 

He  was  walking  along  the  path  before  me  with 
his  eyes  on  the  ground  —  walking  so  slowly,  and 
with  his  lean  frame  so  bent  that  I  might  have 
supposed  him  ill  if  I  had  not  remarked  the 
steady  movement  of  his  head  from  right  to  left, 
and  the  alert  touch  with  which  he  now  and  again 
displaced  a  clod  of  earth  or  a  cluster  of  leaves. 
By-and-bye  he  rose  stiffly,  and  looked  round  him 
suspiciously;  but  by  that  time  I  had  slipped  be- 
hind a  trunk,  and  was  not  to  be  seen ;  and  after 
a  brief  interval  he  went  back  to  his  task,  stoop- 
ing over  it  more  closely,  if  possible,  than  before, 
and  applying  himself  with  even  greater  care. 

By  that  time  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  he 
was  tracking  some  one.  But  whom  ?  I  could  not 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.  85 

make  a  guess  at  that.  I  only  knew  that  the 
plot  was  thickening,  and  began  to  feel  the  eager- 
ness of  the  chase.  Of  course,  if  the  matter  had 
not  to  do  with  Cocheforet,  it  was  no  affair  of 
mine;  but  though  it  seemed  unlikely  that  any- 
thing could  bring  him  back  so  soon,  he  might 
still  be  at  the  bottom  of  this.  And,  besides,  I 
felt  a  natural  curiosity.  When  Clon  at  last  im- 
proved his  pace,  and  went  on  to  the  village,  I  took 
up  his  task.  I  called  to  mind  all  the  wood-lore 
I  had  ever  known,  and  scanned  trodden  mould 
and  crushed  leaves  with  eager  eyes.  But  in  vain. 
I  could  make  nothing  of  it  at  all,  and  rose  at 
last  with  an  aching  back  and  no  advantage. 

I  did  not  go  on  to  the  village  after  that,  but 
returned  to  the  house,  where  I  found  Madame 
pacing  the  garden.  She  looked  up  eagerly  on 
hearing  my  step ;  and  I  was  mistaken  if  she 
was  not  disappointed  —  if  she  had  not  been  ex- 
pecting some  one  else.  She  hid  the  feeling 
bravely,  however,  and  met  me  with  a  careless 
word;  but  she  turned  to  the  house  more  than 
once  while  we  talked,  and  she  seemed  to  be  all 
the  while  on  the  watch,  and  uneasy.  I  was  not 


86  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

surprised  when  Clon's  figure  presently  appeared 
in  the  doorway,  and  she  left  me  abruptly,  and 
went  to  him.  I  only  felt  more  certain  than 
before  that  there  was  something  strange  on  foot. 
What  it  was,  and  whether  it  had  to  do  with  M.  de 
Cocheforet,  I  could  not  tell.  But  there  it  was, 
and  I  grew  more  curious  the  longer  I  remained 
alone. 

She  came  back  to  me  presently,  looking 
thoughtful  and  a  trifle  downcast.  "That  was 
Clon,  was  it  not  ? "  I  said,  studying  her  face. 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  She  spoke  absently, 
and  did  not  look  at  me. 

"  How  does  he  talk  to  you  ? "  I  asked,  speak- 
ing a  trifle  curtly. 

As  I  intended,  my  tone  roused  her.  "By 
signs,"  she  said. 

'Is  he  —  is  he  not  a  little  mad?"  I  ventured. 
I  wanted  to  make  her  talk  and  forget  herself. 

She  looked  at  me  with  sudden  keenness,  then 
dropped  her  eyes. 

"You  do  not  like  him?"  she  said,  a  note  of 
challenge  in  her  voice.  "I  have  noticed  that, 
Monsieur." 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.          87 

"  I  think  he  does  not  like  me,"  I  replied. 

"  He  is  less  trustful  than  we  are,"  she  an- 
swered naively.  "  It  is  natural  that  he  should 
be.  He  has  seen  more  of  the  world." 

That  silenced  me  for  a  moment,  but  she  did 
not  seem  to  notice  it.  "  I  was  looking  for  him 
a  little  while  ago,  and  I  could  not  find  him,"  I 
said,  after  a  pause. 

"He  has  been  into  the  village,"  she  answered. 

I  longed  to  pursue  the  matter  farther;  but 
though  she  seemed  to  entertain  no  suspicion  of 
me,  I  dared  not  run  the  risk.  I  tried  her,  instead, 
on  another  tack.  "  Mademoiselle  de  Cocheforet 
does  not  seem  very  well  to-day  ? "  I  said. 

"No?"  she  answered  carelessly.  "Well,  now 
you  speak  of  it,  I  do  not  think  she  is.  She  is 
often  anxious  about  —  my  husband." 

She  uttered  the  last  two  words  with  a  little 
hesitation,  and  looked  at  me  quickly  when  she 
had  spoken  them.  We  were  sitting  at  the  mo- 
ment on  a  stone  seat  which  had  the  wall  of  the 
house  for  a  back;  and,  fortunately,  I  was  toying 
with  the  branch  of  a  creeping  plant  that  hung 
over  it,  so  that  she  could  not  see  more  than  the 


88  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

side  of  my  face.  For  I  knew  that  it  altered. 
Over  my  voice,  however,  I  had  more  control,  and 
I  hastened  to  answer,  "Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  as 
innocently  as  possible. 

"He  is  at  Bosost  —  in  Spain.  You  knew  that, 
I  conclude  ? "  she  said,  with  a  certain  sharpness. 
And  she  looked  me  in  the  face  again  very 
directly. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  beginning  to  tremble. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard,  too,  that  he  — 
that  he  sometimes  crosses  the  border  ? "  she  con- 
tinued, in  a  low  voice,  but  with  a  certain  ring  of 
insistence  in  her  tone.  "  Or,  if  you  have  not 
heard  it,  you  guess  it  ? " 

I  was  in  a  quandary,  and  grew,  in  one  second, 
hot  all  over.  Uncertain  what  amount  of  knowl- 
edge I  ought  to  admit,  I  took  refuge  in  gallantry. 
"  I  should  be  surprised  if  he  did  not,"  I  answered, 
with  a  bow,  "  being,  as  he  is,  so  close,  and  having 
such  an  inducement  to  return,  Madame." 

She  drew  a  long,  shivering  sigh  —  at  the 
thought  of  his  peril,  I  fancied,  and  sat  back 
against  the  wall.  Nor  did  she  say  any  more, 
though  I  heard  her  sigh  again.  In  a  moment 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.  89 

she  rose.  "The  afternoons  are  growing  chilly," 
she  said ;  "  I  will  go  in  and  see  how  Mademoiselle 
is.  Sometimes  she  does  not  come  to  supper.  If 
she  cannot  descend  this  evening,  I  am  afraid 
you  must  excuse  me  too,  Monsieur." 

I  said  what  was  right,  and  watched  her  go  in ; 
and,  as  I  did  so,  I  loathed  my  errand,  and  the 
mean  contemptible  curiosity  which  it  had  planted 
in  my  mind,  more  than  at  any  former  time. 
These  women  —  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to 
hate  them  for  their  frankness,  for  their  foolish 
confidence,  and  the  silly  trustfulness  that  made 
them  so  easy  a  prey ! 

Nom  de  Dieu  !  What  did  the  woman  mean  by 
telling  me  all  this  ?  To  meet  me  in  such  a  way, 
to  disarm  one  by  such  methods,  was  to  take  an 
unfair  advantage.  It  put  a  vile  —  ay,  the  vilest 
—  aspect,  on  the  work  I  had  to  do. 

Yet  it  was  very  odd !  What  could  M.  de 
Cocheforet  mean  by  returning  so  soon,  if  M.  de 
Cocheforet  was  here  ?  And,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  it  was  not  his  unexpected  presence  that  had  so 
upset  the  house,  what  was  the  secret?  Whom 
had  Clon  been  tracking?  And  what  was  the 


90  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

cause  of  Madame's  anxiety  ?  In  a  few  minutes  I 
began  to  grow  curious  again ;  and,  as  the  ladies 
did  not  appear  at  supper,  I  had  leisure  to  give  my 
brain  full  license,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour 
thought  of  a  hundred  keys  to  the  mystery.  But 
none  exactly  fitted  the  lock,  or  laid  open  the 
secret. 

A  false  alarm  that  evening  helped  to  puzzle  me 
still  more.  I  was  sitting,  about  an  hour  after 
supper,  on  the  same  seat  in  the  garden  —  I  had 
my  cloak  and  was  smoking  —  when  Madame 
came  out  like  a  ghost,  and,  without  seeing  me, 
flitted  away  through  the  darkness  toward  the  sta- 
bles. For  a  moment  I  hesitated,  then  I  followed 
her.  She  went  down  the  path  and  round  the 
stables,  and  so  far  I  understood;  but  when  she 
had  in  this  way  gained  the  rear  of  the  west  wing, 
she  took  a  track  through  the  thicket  to  the  east  of 
the  house  again,  and  so  came  back  to  the  garden. 
This  gained,  she  came  up  the  path  and  went  in 
through  the  parlour  door,  and  disappeared  —  after 
making  a  clear  circuit  of  the  house,  and  not  once 
pausing  or  looking  to  right  or  left !  I  confess  I 
was  fairly  baffled.  I  sank  back  on  the  seat  I  had 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.  91 

left,  and  said  to  myself  that  this  was  the  lamest 
of  all  conclusions.  I  was  sure  that  she  had  ex- 
changed no  word  with  any  one.  I  was  equally 
sure  that  she  had  not  detected  my  presence 
behind  her.  Why,  then,  had  she  made  this 
strange  promenade,  alone,  unprotected,  an  hour 
after  nightfall  ?  No  dog  had  bayed,  no  one  had 
moved,  she  had  not  once  paused,  or  listened,  like 
a  person  expecting  a  rencontre.  I  could  not  make 
it  out.  And  I  came  no  nearer  to  solving  it,  though 
I  lay  awake  an  hour  beyond  my  usual  time. 

In  the  morning  neither  of  the  ladies  descended 
to  dinner,  and  I  heard  that  Mademoiselle  was  not 
so  well.  After  a  lonely  meal,  therefore  —  I  missed 
them  more  than  I  should  have  supposed  —  I  re- 
tired to  my  favourite  seat,  and  fell  to  meditating. 

The  day  was  fine,  and  the  garden  pleasant. 
Sitting  there  with  my  eyes  on  the  old-fashioned 
herb-beds,  with  the  old-fashioned  scents  in  the  air, 
and  the  dark  belt  of  trees  bounding  the  view  on 
either  side,  I  could  believe  that  I  had  been  out  of 
Paris  not  three  weeks,  but  three  months.  The 
quiet  lapped  me  round.  I  could  fancy  that  I  had 
never  loved  anything  else.  The  wood-doves  cooed 


Q2  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

in  the  stillness;  occasionally  the  harsh  cry  of  a 
jay  jarred  the  silence.  It  was  an  hour  after  noon, 
and  hot.  I  think  I  nodded. 

On  a  sudden,  as  if  in  a  dream,  I  saw  Clon's 
face  peering  at  me  round  the  angle  of  the  parlour 
door.  He  looked,  and  in  a  moment  withdrew, 
and  I  heard  whispering.  The  door  was  gently 
closed.  Then  all  was  still  again. 

But  I  was  wide  awake  now,  and  thinking  hard. 
Clearly  the  people  of  the  house  wished  to  assure 
themselves  that  I  was  asleep  and  safely  out  of  the 
way.  As  clearly,  it  was  to  my  interest  to  know 
what  was  passing.  Giving  way  to  the  temptation, 
I  rose  quietly,  and,  stooping  below  the  level  of 
the  windows,  slipped  round  the  east  end  of  the 
house,  passing  between  it  and  the  great  yew 
hedge.  Here  I  found  all  still,  and  no  one  -stir- 
ring. So,  keeping  a  wary  eye  about  me,  I  went 
on  round  the  house  —  reversing  the  route  which 
Madame  had  taken  the  night  before  —  until  I 
gained  the  rear  of  the  stables.  Here  I  had 
scarcely  paused  a  second  to  scan  the  ground 
before  two  persons  came  out  of  the  stable-court. 
They  were  Madame  and  the  porter. 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.  93 

They  stood  a  brief  while  outside,  and  looked 
up  and  down.  Then  Madame  said  something  to 
the  man,  and  he  nodded.  Leaving  him  standing 
where  he  was,  she  crossed  the  grass  with  a  quick, 
light  step,  and  vanished  among  the  trees. 

In  a  moment  my  mind  was  made  up  to  follow ; 
and,  as  Clon  turned  at  once  and  went  in,  I  was 
able  to  do  so  before  it  was  too  late.  Bending  low 
among  the  shrubs,  I  ran  hot-foot  to  the  point 
where  Madame  had  entered  the  wood.  Here  I 
found  a  narrow  path,  and  ran  nimbly  along  it,  and 
presently  saw  her  grey  robe  fluttering  among  the 
trees  before  me.  It  only  remained  to  keep  out  of 
her  sight  and  give  her  no  chance  of  discovering 
that  she  was  followed;  and  this  I  set  myself  to 
do.  Once  or  twice  she  glanced  round,  but  the 
wood  was  of  beech,  the  light  which  passed 
between  the  leaves  was  mere  twilight,  and  my 
clothes  were  dark-coloured.  I  had  every  advan- 
tage, therefore,  and  little  to  fear  as  long  as  I 
could  keep  her  in  view  and  still  remain  myself  at 
such  a  distance  that  the  rustle  of  my  tread  would 
not  disturb  her. 

Assured  that  she  was  on  her  way  to  meet  her 


94  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

husband,  whom  my  presence  kept  from  the  house, 
I  felt  that  the  crisis  had  come  at  last ;  and  I  grew 
more  excited  with  each  step  I  took.  True,  I  de- 
tested the  task  of  watching  her :  it  filled  me  with 
peevish  disgust.  But  in  proportion  as  I  hated  it  I 
was  eager  to  have  it  done  and  be  done  with  it, 
and  succeed,  and  stuff  my  ears  and  begone  from 
the  scene.  When  she  presently  came  to  the  verge 
of  the  beech  wood,  and,  entering  a  little  open 
clearing,  seemed  to  loiter,  I  went  cautiously. 
This,  I  thought,  must  be  the  rendezvous;  and  I 
held  back  warily,  looking  to  see  him  step  out  of 
the  thicket 

But  he  did  not,  and  by-and-bye  she  quickened 
her  pace.  She  crossed  the  open  and  entered  a 
wide  ride  cut  through  a  low,  dense  wood  of  alder 
and  dwarf  oak  —  a  wood  so  closely  planted,  and 
so  intertwined  with  hazel  and  elder  and  box  that 
the  branches  rose  like  a  solid  wall,  twelve  feet 
high,  on  either  side  of  the  track. 

Down  this  she  passed,  and  I  stood  and  watched 
her  go ;  for  I  dared  not  follow.  The  ride  stretched 
away  as  straight  as  a  line  for  four  or  five  hundred 
yards,  a  green  path  between  green  walls.  To  enter 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.  95 

it  was  to  be  immediately  detected,  if  she  turned ; 
while  the  thicket  itself  permitted  no  passage.  I 
stood  baffled  and  raging,  and  watched  her  pass 
along.  It  seemed  an  age  before  she  at  last 
reached  the  end,  and,  turning  sharply  to  the  right, 
was  in  an  instant  gone  from  sight. 

I  waited  then  no  longer.  I  started  off,  and, 
running  as  lightly  and  quietly  as  I  could,  I  sped 
down  the  green  alley.  The  sun  shone  into  it,  the 
trees  kept  off  the  wind,  and  between  heat  and 
haste,  I  sweated  finely.  But  the  turf  was  soft, 
and  the  ground  fell  slightly,  and  in  little  more 
than  a  minute  I  gained  the  end.  Fifty  yards 
short  of  the  turning  I  stayed  myself,  and, 
stealing  on,  looked  cautiously  the  way  she  had 
gone. 

I  saw  before  me  a  second  ride,  the  twin  of  the 
other,  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  paces  down  it  her 
grey  figure  tripping  on  between  the  green  hedges. 
I  stood  and  took  breath,  and  cursed  the  wood  and 
the  heat  and  Madame's  warines's.  We  must  have 
come  a  league  or  two-thirds  of  a  league,  at  least. 
How  far  did  the  man  expect  her  to  plod  to  meet 
him  ?  I  began  to  grow  angry.  There  is  modera- 


96  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

tion  even  in  the  cooking  of  eggs,  and  this  wood 
might  stretch  into  Spain,  for  all  I  knew! 

Presently  she  turned  the  corner  and  was  gone 
again,  and  I  had  to  repeat  my  manoeuvre.  This 
time,  surely,  I  should  find  a  change.  But  no ! 
Another  green  ride  stretched  away  into  the  depths 
of  the  forest,  with  hedges  of  varying  shades  — 
here  light  and  there  dark,  as  hazel  and  elder,  or 
thorn,  and  yew  and  box  prevailed  —  but  always 
high  and  stiff  and  impervious.  Half-way  down  the 
ride  Madame' s  figure  tripped  steadily  on,  the  only 
moving  thing  in  sight.  I  wondered,  stood,  and, 
when  she  vanished,  followed  —  only  to  find  that 
she  had  entered  another  track,  a  little  narrower, 
but  in  every  other  respect  alike. 

And  so  it  went  on  for  quite  half  an  hour. 
Sometimes  Madame  turned  to  the  right,  some- 
times to  the  left.  The  maze  seemed  to  be  end- 
less. Once  or  twice  I  wondered  whether  she  had 
lost  her  way,  and  was  merely  seeking  to  return. 
But  her  steady,  purposeful  gait,  her  measured 
pace,  forbade  the  idea.  I  noticed,  too,  that  she 
seldom  looked  behind  her  —  rarely  to  right  or  left. 
Once  the  ride  down  which  she  passed  was  car- 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.  97 

peted  not  with  green,  but  with  the  silvery,  sheeny 
leaves  of  some  creeping  plant  that  in  the  distance 
had  a  shimmer  like  that  of  water  at  evening.  As 
she  trod  this,  with  her  face  to  the  low  sun,  her  tall 
grey  figure  had  a  pure  air  that  for  the  moment 
startled  me  —  she  looked  unearthly.  Then  I  swore 
in  scorn  of  myself,  and  at  the  next  corner  I  had 
my  reward.  She  was  no  longer  walking  on.  She 
had  stopped,  I  found,  and  seated  herself  on  a 
fallen  tree  that  lay  in  the  ride. 

For  some  time  I  stood  in  ambush  watching  her, 
and  with  each  minute  I  grew  more  impatient.  At 
last  I  began  to  doubt  —  to  have  strange  thoughts. 
The  green  walls  were  growing  dark.  The  sun 
was  sinking ;  a  sharp,  white  peak,  miles  and  miles 
away,  which  closed  the  vista  of  the  ride  began  to 
flush  and  colour  rosily.  Finally,  but  not  before 
I  had  had  leisure  to  grow  uneasy,  she  stood  up 
and  walked  on  more  slowly.  I  waited,  as  usual, 
until  the  next  turning  hid  her.  Then  I  hastened 
after  her,  and,  warily  passing  round  the  corner  — 
came  face  to  face  with  her! 

I  knew  all  in  a  moment  —  that  she  had  fooled 
me,  tricked  me,  lured  me  away.  Her  face  was 

H 


98  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

white  with  scorn,  her  eyes  blazed ;  her  figure,  as 
she  confronted  me,  trembled  with  anger  and  infi- 
nite contempt. 

"  You  spy !  "  she  cried.  "  You  hound !  You  — 
gentleman !  Oh,  mon  Dieu !  if  you  are  one  of 
us  —  if  you  are  really  not  canaille  —  we  shall  pay 
for  this  some  day !  We  shall  pay  a  heavy  reck- 
oning in  the  time  to  come !  I  did  not  think,"  she 
continued  —  her  every  syllable  like  the  lash  of 
a  whip  —  "that  there  was  anything  so  vile  as 
you  in  this  world !  " 

I  stammered  something  —  I  do  not  know  what. 
Her  words  burned  into  me  —  into  my  heart !  Had 
she  been  a  man,  I  would  have  struck  her  dead ! 

"You  thought  you  deceived  me  yesterday," 
she  continued,  lowering  her  tone,  but  with  no 
lessening  of  the  passion  and  contempt  which 
curled  her  lip  and  gave  fulness  to  her  voice. 
"  You  plotter !  You  surface  trickster !  You 
thought  it  an  easy  task  to  delude  a  woman  — 
you  find  yourself  deluded.  God  give  you  shame 
that  you  may  suffer ! "  she  continued  mercilessly. 
"  You  talked  of  Clon,  but  Clon  beside  you  is  the 
most  honourable  of  men ! " 


"You  spy  !  "    she  cried      "  You  hound  !    You  —gentleman  ! " 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.  99 

"Madame,"  I  said  hoarsely  —  and  I  know  my 
face  was  grey  as  ashes  —  "  let  us  understand  one 
another." 

"  God  forbid !  "  she  cried,  on  the  instant  "  I 
would  not  soil  myself !  " 

"  Fie !  Madame,"  I  said,  trembling.  "  But  then, 
you  are  a  woman.  That  should  cost  a  man  his 
life!" 

She  laughed  bitterly. 

"You  say  well,"  she  retorted.  "I  am  not  a 
man.  Neither  am  I  Madame.  Madame  de 
Cocheforet  has  spent  this  afternoon  —  thanks 
to  your  absence  and  your  imbecility  —  with  her 
husband.  Yes,  I  hope  that  hurts  you !  "  she  went 
on,  savagely  snapping  her  little  white  teeth 
together.  "  To  spy  and  do  vile  work,  and  do  it 
ill,  Monsieur  Mouchard  —  Monsieur  de  Mouchard, 
I  should  say  —  I  congratulate  you ! " 

"  You  are  not  Madame  de  Cocheforet !  "  I  cried, 
stunned  —  even  in  the  midst  of  my  shame  and 
rage  —  by  this  blow. 

"  No,  Monsieur !  "  she  answered  grimly.  "I 
am  not!  And  permit  me  to  point  out — for  we 
do  not  all  lie  easily  —  that  I  never  said  I  was. 

H  2 


100  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

You  deceived  yourself  so  skilfully  that  we  had  no 
need  to  trick  you." 

"  Mademoiselle,  then  ?  "  I  muttered. 

"  Is  Madame !  "  she  cried.  "  Yes,  and  I  am 
Mademoiselle  de  Cocheforet.  And  in  that  char- 
acter, and  in  all  others,  I  beg  from  this  moment 
to  close  our  acquaintance,  Sir.  When  we  meet 
again — if  we  ever  do  meet  —  which  God  for- 
bid ! "  she  cried,  her  eyes  sparkling,  "  do  not  pre- 
sume to  speak  to  me,  or  I  will  have  you  flogged 
by  the  grooms.  And  do  not  stain  our  roof  by 
sleeping  under  it  again.  You  may  lie  to-night  in 
the  inn.  It  shall  not  be  said  that  Cocheforet," 
she  continued  proudly,  "returned  even  treachery 
with  inhospitality ;  and  I  will  give  orders  to  that 
end.  To-morrow  begone  back  to  your  master,  like 
the  whipped  cur  you  are  !  Spy  and  coward !  " 

With  the  last  fierce  words  she  moved  away. 
I  would  have  said  something,  I  could  almost  have 
found  it  in  my  heart  to  stop  her  and  make  her 
hear.  Nay,  I  had  dreadful  thoughts;  for  I  was 
the  stronger,  and  I  might  have  done  with  her  as 
I  pleased.  But  she  swept  by  me  so  fearlessly  — 
as  I  might  pass  some  loathsome  cripple  in  the 


MADAME  AND  MADEMOISELLE.          IOI 

road  —  that  I  stood  turned  to  stone.  Without 
looking  at  me  —  without  turning  her  head  to  see 
whether  I  followed  or  remained,  or  what  I  did  — 
she  went  steadily  down  the  track  until  the  trees 
and  the  shadow  and  the  growing  darkness  hid 
her  grey  figure  from  me;  and  I  found  myself 
alone. 


CHAPTER  V. 

REVENGE. 

AND  full  of  black  rage!  Had  she  only  re- 
proached me,  or,  turning  on  me  in  the  hour  of 
my  victory,  said  all  she  had  now  said  in  the 
moment  of  her  own,  I  could  have  borne  it.  She 
might  have  shamed  me  then,  and  I  might  have 
taken  the  shame  to  myself,  and  forgiven  her. 
But,  as  it  was,  I  stood  there  in  the  gathering 
dusk,  between  the  darkening  hedges,  baffled, 
tricked,  defeated !  And  by  a  woman  !  She  had 
pitted  her  wits  against  mine,  her  woman's  will 
against  my  experience,  and  she  had  come  off  the 
victor.  And  then  she  had  reviled  me.  As  I  took 
it  all  in,  and  began  to  comprehend,  also,  the  more 
remote  results,  and  how  completely  her  move  had 
made  further  progress  on  my  part  impossible,  I 
hated  her.  She  had  tricked  me  with  her  gracious 
ways  and  her  slow-coming  smile.  And,  after  all 

102 


REVENGE.  103 

—  for  what  she  had  said — it  was  this  man's  life 
or  mine.  What  had  I  done  that  another  man 
would  not  do  ?  Mon  Dieu  !  In  the  future  there 
was  nothing  I  would  not  do.  I  would  make  her 
smart  for  those  words  of  hers!  I  would  bring 
her  to  her  knees! 

Still,  hot  as  I  was,  an  hour  might  have  restored 
me  to  coolness.  But  when  I  started  to  return, 
I  fell  into  a  fresh  rage,  for  I  remembered  that  I 
did  not  know  my  way  out  of  the  maze  of  rides 
and  paths  into  which  she  had  drawn  me ;  and 
this  and  the  mishaps  which  followed  kept  my 
rage  hot.  For  a  full  hour  I  wandered  in  the 
wood,  unable,  though  I  knew  where  the  village 
lay,  to  find  any  track  which  led  continuously  in 
one  direction.  Whenever,  at  the  end  of  each 
attempt,  the  thicket  brought  me  up  short,  I  fan- 
cied I  heard  her  laughing  on  the  farther  side  of 
the  brake ;  and  the  ignominy  of  this  chance  pun- 
ishment, the  check  which  the  confinement  placed 
on  my  rage,  almost  maddened  me.  In  the  dark- 
ness, I  fell,  and  rose  cursing;  I  tore  my  hands 
with  thorns ;  I  stained  my  suit,  which  had  suffered 
sadly  once  before.  At  length,  when  I  had  almost 


104  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

resigned  myself  to  lie  in  the  wood,  I  caught  sight 
of  the  lights  of  the  village,  and  trembling  between 
haste  and  anger,  pressed  towards  them.  In  a 
few  minutes  I  stood  in  the  little  street.  . 

The  lights  of  the  inn  shone  only  fifty  yards 
away ;  but  before  I  could  show  myself  even  there 
pride  suggested  that  I  should  do  something  to 
repair  my  clothes.  I  stopped,  and  scraped  and 
brushed  them;  and,  at  the  same  time,  did  what 
I  could  to  compose  my  features.  Then  I  ad- 
vanced to  the  door  and  knocked.  Almost  on 
the  instant  the  landlord's  voice  cried  from  the 
inside,  "  Enter,  Monsieur !  " 

I  raised  the  latch  and  went  in.  The  man  was 
alone,  squatting  over  the  fire,  warming  his  hands. 
A  black  pot  simmered  on  the  ashes :  as  I  entered, 
he  raised  the  lid  and  peeped  inside.  Then  he 
glanced  over  his  shoulder. 

"  You  expected  me  ?  "  I  said  defiantly,  walking 
to  the  hearth,  and  setting  one  of  my  damp  boots 
on  the  logs. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  nodding  curtly.  "  Your 
supper  is  just  ready.  I  thought  you  would  be 
in  about  this  time." 


REVENGE.  105 

He  grinned  as  he  spoke,  and  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty I  suppressed  my  wrath.  "  Mademoiselle 
de  Cocheforet  told  you,"  I  said,  affecting  in- 
difference, "  where  I  was  ? " 

"  Ay,  Mademoiselle  —  or  Madame,"  he  replied, 
grinning  afresh. 

So  she  had  told  him  where  she  had  left  me, 
and  how  she  had  tricked  me !  She  had  made 
me  the  village  laughing-stock!  My  rage  flashed 
out  afresh  at  the  thought,  and,  at  the  sight  of 
his  mocking  face,  I  raised  my  fist. 

But  he  read  the  threat  in  my  eyes,  and  was 
up  in  a  moment,  snarling,  with  his  hand  on  his 
knife.  "  Not  again,  Monsieur !  "  he  cried,  in  his 
vile  patois.  "  My  head  is  sore  still.  Raise  your 
hand,  and  I  will  rip  you  up  as  I  would  a  pig !  " 

"  Sit  down,  fool,"  I  said.  "  I  am  not  going 
to  harm  you.  Where  is  your  wife  ?  " 

"  About  her  business." 

"Which  should  be  getting  my  supper,"  I  re- 
torted sharply. 

He  rose  sullenly,  and,  fetching  a  platter,  poured 
the  mess  of  broth  and  vegetables  into  it.  Then 
he  went  to  a  cupboard  and  brought  out  a  loaf 


106  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

of  black  bread  and  a  measure  of  wine,  and  set 
them  also  on  the  table.  "  You  see  it,"  he  said 
laconically. 

"  And  a  poor  welcome  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

He  flamed  into  sudden  passion  at  that.  Lean- 
ing with  both  his  hands  on  the  table,  he  thrust 
his  rugged  face  and  blood-shot  eyes  close  to 
mine.  His  mustachios  bristled;  his  beard  trem- 
bled. "  Hark  ye,  Sirrah !  "  he  muttered,  with 
sullen  emphasis  —  "  be  content !  I  have  my  sus- 
picions. And  if  it  were  not  for  my  lady's  orders 
I  would  put  a  knife  into  you,  fair  or  foul,  this 
very  night.  You  would  lie  snug  outside,  instead 
of  inside,  and  I  do  not  think  any  one  would  be 
the  worse.  But,  as  it  is,  be  content.  Keep  a 
still  tongue ;  and  when  you  turn  your  back  on 
Cocheforet  to-morrow  keep  it  turned." 

"Tut!  tut!"  I  said — but  I  confess  I  was  a 
little  out  of  countenance.  "  Threatened  men  live 
long,  you  rascal !  " 

"  In  Paris !  "  he  answered  significantly.  "  Not 
here,  Monsieur." 

He  straightened  himself  with  that,  nodded 
once,  and  went  back  to  the  fire,  and  I  shrugged 


REVENGE.  107 

my  shoulders  and  began  to  eat,  affecting  to  for- 
get his  presence.  The  logs  on  the  hearth  burned 
sullenly,  and  gave  no  light.  The  poor  oil-lamp, 
casting  weird  shadows  from  wall  to  wall,  served 
only  to  discover  the  darkness.  The  room,  with 
its  low  roof  and  earthen  floor,  and  foul  clothes 
flung  here  and  there,  reeked  of  stale  meals  and 
garlic  and  vile  cooking.  I  thought  of  the  par- 
lour at  Cocheforet,  and  the  dainty  table,  and 
the  stillness,  and  the  scented  pot-herbs;  and, 
though  I  was  too  old  a  soldier  to  eat  the  worse 
because  my  spoon  lacked  washing,  I  felt  the 
change,  and  laid  it  savagely  at  Mademoiselle's 
door. 

The  landlord,  watching  me  stealthily  from  his 
place  by  the  hearth,  read  my  thoughts,  and 
chuckled  aloud.  "  Palace  fare,  palace  man- 
ners ! "  he  muttered  scornfully.  "  Set  a  beggar 
on  horseback,  and  he  will  ride  —  back  to  the 
inn !  " 

"  Keep  a  civil  tongue,  will  you !  "  I  answered, 
scowling  at  him. 

"  Have  you  finished  ?  "  he  retorted. 

I   rose,  without  deigning  to  reply,   and,  going 


108  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

to  the  fire,  drew  off  my  boots,  which  were  wet 
through.  He,  on  the  instant,  swept  off  the 
wine  and  loaf  to  the  cupboard,  and  then,  coming 
back  for  the  platter  I  had  used,  took  it,  opened 
the  back  door,  and  went  out,  leaving  the  door 
ajar.  The  draught  which  came  in  beat  the 
flame  of  the  lamp  this  way  and  that,  and  gave 
the  dingy,  gloomy  room  an  air  still  more  miser- 
able. I  rose  angrily  from  the  fire,  and  went  to 
the  door,  intending  to  close  it  with  a  bang. 

But  when  I  reached  it,  I  saw  something,  be- 
tween door  and  jamb,  which  stayed  my  hand. 
The  door  led  to  a  shed  in  which  the  housewife 
washed  pots  and  the  like.  I  felt  some  surprise, 
therefore,  when  I  found  a  light  there  at  this 
time  of  night;  still  more  surprise  when  I  saw 
what  she  was  doing. 

She  was  seated  on  the  mud  floor,  with  a  .rush- 
light before  her,  and  on  either  side  of  her  a 
high-piled  heap  of  refuse  and  rubbish.  From 
one  of  these,  at  the  moment  I  caught  sight  of 
her,  she  was  sorting  things  —  horrible,  filthy 
sweepings  of  road  or  floor  —  to  the  other;  shak- 
ing and  sifting  each  article  as  she  passed  it 


REVENGE.  109 

across,  and  then  taking  up  another  and  repe'at- 
ing  the  action  with  it,  and  so  on  :  all  minutely, 
warily,  with  an  air  of  so  much  patience  and 
persistence  that  I  stood  wondering.  Some 
things  —  rags  —  she  held  up  between  her  eyes 
and  the  light,  some  she  passed  through  her 
ringers,  some  she  fairly  tore  in  pieces.  And 
all  the  time  her  husband  stood  watching  her 
greedily,  my  platter  still  in  his  hand,  as  if  her 
strange  occupation  fascinated  him. 

I  stood  looking,  also,  for  half  a  minute,  per- 
haps; then  the  man's  eye,  raised  for  a  single 
second  to  the  doorway,  met  mine.  He  started, 
muttered  something  to  his  wife,  and,  quick  as 
thought,  kicked  the  light  out,  leaving  the  shed 
in  darkness.  Cursing  him  for  an  ill-conditioned 
fellow,  I  walked  back  to  the  fire,  laughing.  In  a 
twinkling  he  followed  me,  his  face  dark  with  rage. 

"  Ventre  saint  gris ! "  he  exclaimed,  thrusting 
it  close  to  mine.  "Is  not  a  man's  house  his 
own  ? " 

"  It  is,  for  me,"  I  answered  coolly,  shrugging 
my  shoulders.  "  And  his  wife :  if  she  likes  to 
pick  dirty  rags  at  this  hour,  that  is  your  affair." 


110  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  Pig  of  a  spy ! "  he  cried,  foaming  with  rage. 

I  was  angry  enough  at  bottom,  but  I  had  noth- 
ing to  gain  by  quarrelling  with  the  fellow;  and 
I  curtly  bade  him  remember  himself.  "Your 
mistress  gave  you  your  orders,"  I  said  contempt- 
uously. "  Obey  them !  " 

He  spat  on  the  floor,  but  at  the  same  time 
he  grew  calmer.  "You  are  right  there,"  he 
answered  spitefully.  "What  matter,  after  all, 
since  you  leave  to-morrow  at  six?  Your  horse 
has  been  sent  down,  and  your  baggage  is  above." 

"  I  will  go  to  it,"  I  retorted.  "  I  want  none 
of  your  company.  Give  me  a  light,  fellow!" 

He  obeyed  reluctantly,  and,  glad  to  turn  my 
back  on  him,  I  went  up  the  ladder,  still  wonder- 
ing faintly,  in  the  midst  of  my  annoyance,  what 
his  wife  was  about  that  my  chance  detection  of 
her  had  so  enraged  him.  Even  now  he  was  not 
quite  himself.  He  followed  me  with  abuse,  and, 
deprived  by  my  departure  of  any  other  means 
of  showing  his  spite,  fell  to  shouting  through 
the  floor,  bidding  me  remember  six  o'clock,  and 
be  stirring;  with  other  taunts,  which  did  not 
cease  until  he  had  tired  himself  out. 


REVENGE.  1 1 1 

The  sight  of  my  belongings  —  which  I  had 
left  a  few  hours  before  at  the  Chateau  —  strewn 
about  the  floor  of  this  garret,  went  some  way 
towards  firing  me  again.  But  I  was  worn  out. 
The  indignities  and  mishaps  of  the  evening  had, 
for  once,  crushed  my  spirit,  and  after  swearing 
an  oath  or  two  I  began  to  pack  my  bags.  Ven- 
geance I  would  have ;  but  the  time  and  manner 
I  left  for  daylight  thought.  Beyond  six  o'clock 
in  the  morning  I  did  not  look  forward;  and  if 
I  longed  for  anything  it  was  for  a  little  of  the 
good  Armagnac  I  had  wasted  on  those  louts  of 
merchants  in  the  kitchen  below.  It  might  have 
done  me  good  now. 

I  had  wearily  strapped  up  one  bag,  and  nearly 
filled  the  other,  when  I  came  upon  something 
which  did,  for  the  moment,  rouse  the  devil  in 
me.  This  was  the  tiny  orange-coloured  sachet 
which  Mademoiselle  had  dropped  the  night  I 
first  saw  her  at  the  inn,  and  which,  it  will  be 
remembered,  I  picked  up.  Since  that  night  I 
had  not  seen  it,  and  had  as  good  as  forgotten 
it.  Now,  as  I  folded  up  my  other  doublet,  the 
one  I  had  then  been  wearing,  it  dropped  from 
the  pocket. 


112  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

The  sight  of  it  recalled  all  —  that  night,  and 
Mademoiselle's  face  in  the  lanthorn  light,  and  my 
fine  plans,  and  the  end  of  them ;  and,  in  a  fit  of 
childish  fury,  the  outcome  of  long  suppressed 
passion,  I  snatched  up  the  sachet  from  the  floor 
and  tore  it  across  and  across,  and  flung  the 
pieces  down.  As  they  fell,  a  cloud  of  fine  pun- 
gent dust  burst  from  them,  and  with  the  dust 
something  heavier,  which  tinkled  sharply  on 
the  boards.  I  looked  down  to  see  what  this  was 
—  perhaps  I  already  repented  of  my  act  —  but 
for  the  moment  I  could  see  nothing.  The  floor 
was  grimy  and  uninviting,  and  the  light  bad. 

In  certain  moods,  however,  a  man  is  obstinate 
about  small  things,  and  I  moved  the  taper 
nearer.  As  I  did  so,  a  point  of  light,  a  flash- 
ing sparkle  that  shone  for  a  second  among  the 
dirt  and  refuse  on  the  floor,  caught  my  eye.  It 
was  gone  in  a  moment,  but  I  had  seen  it.  I 
stared,  and  moved  the  light  again,  and  the  spark 
flashed  out  afresh,  this  time  in  a  different  place. 
Much  puzzled,  I  knelt,  and,  in  a  twinkling,  found 
a  tiny  crystal.  Hard  by  lay  another  —  and  an- 
other; each  as  large  as  a  fair-sized  pea.  I  took 


REVENGE.  H3 

up  the  three,  and  rose  to  my  feet  again,  the 
light  in  one  hand,  the  crystals  in  the  palm  of 
the  other. 

They  were  diamonds  !  —  diamonds  of  price ! 
I  knew  it  in  a  moment.  As  I  moved  the  taper 
to  and  fro  above  them,  and  watched  the  fire 
glow  and  tremble  in  their  depths,  I  knew  that 
I  held  that  which  would  buy  the  crazy  inn  and 
all  its  contents  a  dozen  times  over.  They  were 
diamonds !  Gems  so  fine,  and  of  so  rare  a 
water — or  I  had  never  seen  gems  —  that  my 
hand  trembled  as  I  held  them,  and  my  head 
grew  hot,  and  my  heart  beat  furiously.  For  a 
moment  I  thought  I  dreamed,  that  my  fancy 
played  me  some  trick;  and  I  closed  my  eyes 
and  did  not  open  them  again  for  a  minute.  But 
when  I  did,  there  they  were,  hard,  real,  and 
angular.  Convinced  at  last,  in  a  maze  of  joy 
and  fear,  I  closed  my  hand  upon  them,  and, 
stealing  on  tip-toe  to  the  trapdoor,  laid  first  my 
saddle  on  it,  and  then  my  bags,  and  over  all 
my  cloak,  breathing  fast  the  while. 

Then  I  stole  back;  and,  taking  up  the  light 
again,  began  to  search  the  floor,  patiently,  inch 


114  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

by  inch,  with  naked  feet,  every  sound  making 
me  tremble  as  I  crept  hither  and  thither  over 
the  creaking  boards.  And  never  was  search 
more  successful  or  better  paid.  In  the  frag- 
ments of  the  sachet  I  found  six  smaller  diamonds 
and  a  pair  of  rubies.  Eight  large  diamonds 
I  found  on  the  floor.  One,  the  largest  and 
last-found,  had  bounded  away,  and  lay  against 
the  wall  in  the  farthest  corner.  It  took  me  an 
hour  to  run  that  one  to  earth ;  but  afterwards 
I  spent  another  hour  on  my  hands  and  knees 
before  I  gave  up  the  search,  and,  satisfied  at 
last  that  I  had  collected  all,  sat  down  on  my 
saddle  on  the  trap-door,  and,  by  the  last  flicker- 
ing light  of  a  candle  which  I  had  taken  from 
my  bag,  gloated  over  my  treasure  —  a  treasure 
worthy  of  fabled  Golconda. 

Hardly  could  I  believe  in  its  reality,  even  now. 
Recalling  the  jewels  which  the  English  Duke  of 
Buckingham  wore  on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to 
Paris  in  1625,  and  of  which  there  was  so  much 
talk,  I  took  these  to  be  as  fine,  though  less  in 
number.  They  should  be  worth  fifteen  thousand 
crowns,  more  or  less.  Fifteen  thousand  crowns ! 


REVENGE.  115 

And  I  held  them  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand  — 
I  who  was  scarcely  worth  ten  thousand  sous. 

The  candle  going  out  cut  short  my  admiration. 
Left  in  the  dark  with  these  precious  atoms,  my 
first  thought  was  how  I  might  dispose  of  them 
safely;  which  I  did,  for  the  time,  by  secreting 
them  in  the  lining  of  my  boot.  My  second 
thought  turned  on  the  question  how  they  had 
come  where  I  had  found  them,  among  the  pow- 
dered spice  and  perfumes  in  Mademoiselle  de 
Cocheforet's  sachet. 

A  minute's  reflection  enabled  me  to  come  very 
near  the  secret,  and  at  the  same  time  shed  a 
flood  of  light  on  several  dark  places.  What  Clon 
had  been  seeking  on  the  path  between  the  house 
and  the  village,  what  the  goodwife  of  the  inn 
had  sought  among  the  sweepings  of  yard  and 
floor,  I  knew  now,  —  the  sachet.  I  knew,  too, 
what  had  caused  the  marked  and  sudden  anxiety 
I  had  noticed  at  the  Chateau  —  the  loss  of  this 
sachet. 

And  there  for  a  while  I  came  to  a  check.  But 
one  step  more  up  the  ladder  of  thought  brought 
all  in  view.  In  a  flash  I  guessed  how  the  jewels 


1 1 6  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

had  come  to  be  in  the  sachet;  and  that  it  was 
not  Mademoiselle  but  M.  de  Cocheforet  who 
had  mislaid  them.  And  I  thought  the  discovery 
so  important  that  I  began  to  pace  the  room  softly, 
unable,  in  my  excitement,  to  remain  still. 

Doubtless  he  had  dropped  the  jewels  in  the 
hurry  of  his  start  from  the  inn  that  night ! 
Doubtless,  too,  he  had  carried  them  in  that 
bizarre  hiding-place  for  the  sake  of  safety,  con- 
sidering it  unlikely  that  robbers,  if  he  fell  into 
their  hands,  would  take  the  sachet  from  him ; 
as  still  less  likely  that  they  would  suspect  it  to 
contain  anything  of  value.  Everywhere  it  would 
pass  for  a  love-gift,  the  work  of  his  mistress. 

Nor  did  my  penetration  stop  there.  Ten  to 
one  the  gems  were  family  property,  the  last  treas- 
ure of  the  house ;  and  M.  de  Cocheforet,  when  I 
saw  him  at  the  inn,  was  on  his  way  to  convey 
them  out  of  the  country ;  either  to  secure  them 
from  seizure  by  the  Government,  or  to  raise 
money  by  selling  them  —  money  to  be  spent  in 
some  last  desperate  enterprise.  For  a  day  or 
two,  perhaps,  after  leaving  Cocheforet,  while  the 
mountain  road  and  its  chances  occupied  his 


REVENGE.  117 

thoughts,  he  had  not  discovered  his  loss.  Then 
he  had  searched  for  the  precious  sachet,  missed 
it,  and  returned  hot-foot  on  his  tracks. 

I  was  certain  that  I  had  hit  on  the  true  solu- 
tion; and  all  that  night  I  sat  wakeful  in  the 
darkness,  pondering  what  I  should  do.  The 
stones,  unset  as  they  were,  could  never  be  identi- 
fied, never  be  claimed.  The  channel  by  which 
they  had  come  to  my  hands  could  never  be 
traced.  To  all  intents  they  were  mine  —  mine, 
to  do  with  as  I  pleased !  Fifteen  thousand 
crowns  !  —  perhaps  twenty  thousand  crowns !  — 
and  I  to  leave  at  six  in  the  morning,  whether 
I  would  or  no !  I  might  leave  for  Spain  with 
the  jewels  in  my  pocket. 

I  confess  I  was  tempted.  The  gems  were  so 
fine  that  I  doubt  not  some  indifferently  honest 
men  would  have  sold  salvation  for  them.  But  a 
Berault  his  honour  ?  No !  I  was '  tempted,  but 
not  for  long.  Thank  God,  a  man  may  be  reduced 
to  living  by  the  fortunes  of  the  dice,  and  may 
even  be  called  by  a  woman  spy  and  coward 
without  becoming  a  thief.  The  temptation  soon 
left  me  —  I  take  credit  for  it  —  and  I  fell  to 


Il8  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

thinking  of  this  and  that  plan  for  making  use 
of  them.  Once  it  occurred  to  me  to  take  the 
jewels  to  the  Cardinal  and  buy  my  pardon  with 
them;  again,  to  use  them  as  a  trap  to  capture 
Cocheforet;  again  to  —  and  then  about  five  in 
the  morning,  as  I  sat  up  on  my  wretched  pallet, 
while  the  first  light  stole  slowly  in  through  the 
cobwebbed,  hay-stuffed  lattice,  there  came  to  me 
the  real  plan,  the  plan  of  plans,  on  which  I 
acted. 

It  charmed  me.  I  smacked  my  lips  over  it, 
and  hugged  myself,  and  felt  my  eyes  dilate  in 
the  darkness,  as  I  conned  it.  It  seemed  cruel, 
it  seemed  mean;  I  cared  nothing.  Mademoiselle 
had  boasted  of  her  victory  over  me,  of  her 
woman's  wits  and  her  acuteness;  and  of  my 
dulness.  She  had  said  her  grooms  should  flog 
me,  she  had  rated  me  as  if  I  had  been  a 
dog.  Very  well;  we  would  see  now  whose 
brains  were  the  better,  whose  was  the  master 
mind,  whose  should  be  the  whipping. 

The  one  thing  required  by  my  plan  was  that 
I  should  get  speech  with  her;  that  done,  I  could 
trust  myself,  and  my  new-found  weapon,  for  the 


REVENGE.  119 

rest.  But  that  was  absolutely  necessary ;  and 
seeing  that  there  might  be  some  difficulty  about 
it,  I  determined  to  descend  as  if  my  mind  were 
made  up  to  go ;  then,  on  pretence  of  saddling 
my  horse,  I  would  slip  away  on  foot,  and  lie  in 
wait  near  the  Chateau  until  I  saw  her  come  out. 
Or  if  I  could  not  effect  my  purpose  in  that  way 
—  either  by  reason  of  the  landlord's  vigilance, 
or  for  any  other  cause  —  my  course  was  still 
easy.  I  would  ride  away,  and  when  I  had 
proceeded  a  mile  or  so,  tie  up  my  horse  in  the 
forest  and  return  to  the  wooden  bridge.  Thence 
I  could  watch  the  garden  and  front  of  the 
Chateau  until  time  and  chance  gave  me  the  op- 
portunity I  sought. 

So  I  saw  my  way  quite  clearly;  and  when 
the  fellow  below  called  me,  reminding  me  rudely 
that  I  must  be  going,  and  that  it  was  six  o'clock, 
I  was  ready  with  my  answer.  I  shouted  sulkily 
that  I  was  coming,  and,  after  a  decent  delay, 
I  took  up  my  saddle  and  bags  and  went  down. 

Viewed  by  the  cold  morning  light,  the  inn 
room  looked  more  smoky,  more  grimy,  more 
wretched  than  when  I  had  last  seen  it.  The 


120  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

goodwife  was  not  visible.  The  fire  was  not 
lighted.  No  provision,  not  so  much  as  a  stirrup- 
cup  or  bowl  of  porridge  cheered  the  heart.  I 
looked  round,  sniffing  the  stale  smell  of  last 
night's  lamp,  and  grunted.  "  Are  you  going  to 
send  me  out  fasting  ?  "  I  said,  affecting  a  worse 
humour  than  I  felt. 

The  landlord  was  standing  by  the  window, 
stooping  over  a  great  pair  of  frayed  and 
furrowed  thigh-boots,  which  he  was  labouring 
to  soften  with  copious  grease.  "  Mademoiselle 

* 

ordered  no  breakfast,"  he  answered,  with  a  ma- 
licious grin. 

"Well,  it  does  not  much  matter,"  I  replied 
grandly.  "  I  shall  be  at  Auch  by  noon." 

"That  is  as  may  be,"  he  answered,  with  another 
grin.  I  did  not  understand  him,  but  I  had 
something  else  to  think  about,  and  I  opened 
the  door  and  stepped  out,  intending  to  go  to  the 
stable.  Then  in  a  second  I  comprehended.  The 
cold  air  laden  with  woodland  moisture  met  me 
and  went  to  my  bones ;  but  it  was  not  that  which 
made  me  shiver.  Outside  the  door,  in  the  road, 
sitting  on  horseback  in  silence,  were  two  men. 


Outside  the  door,  in  the  road,  sitting  on  horseback  in  silence, 
were  two  men. 


REVENGE.  121 

One  was  Clon.  The  other,  who  held  a  spare 
horse  by  the  rein  —  my  horse  —  was  a  man  I 
had  seen  at  the  inn,  a  rough,  shock-headed,  hard- 
bitten fellow.  Both  were  armed,  and  Clon  was 
booted.  His  mate  rode  barefoot,  with  a  rusty 
spur  strapped  to  one  heel. 

The  moment  I  saw  them  a  sure  and  certain 
fear  crept  into  my  mind :  it  was  that  made  me 
shiver.  But  I  did  not  speak  to  them.  I  went 
in  again,  and  closed  the  door  behind  me.  The 
landlord  was  putting  on  the  boots.  "What  does 
this  mean  ? "  I  said  hoarsely.  I  had  a  clear 
prescience  of  what  was  coming.  "  Why  are 
these  men  here  ? " 

"  Orders,"  he  answered  laconically. 

"Whose  orders?"  I  retorted. 

"Whose?"  he  answered  bluntly.  "Well, 
Monsieur,  that  is  my  business.  Enough  that  we 
mean  to  see  you  out  of  the  country,  and  out  of 
harm's  way." 

"But  if  I  will  not  go?"  I  cried. 

"  Monsieur  will  go,"  he  answered  coolly. 
"  There  are  no  strangers  in  the  village  to-day," 
he  added,  with  a  significant  smile. 


122  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  kidnap  me  ? "  I  replied,  in  a 
rage.  Behind  the  rage  was  something  —  I  will 
not  call  it  terror,  for  the  brave  feel  no  terror  — 
but  it  was  near  akin  to  it.  I  had  had  to  do 
with  rough  men  all  my  -life,  but  there  was  a 
grimness  and  truculence  in  the  aspect  of  these 
three  that  shook  me.  When  I  thought  of  the  dark 
paths  and  narrow  lanes  and  cliff-sides  we  must 
traverse,  whichever  road  we  took,  I  trembled. 

"  Kidnap  you,  Monsieur  ?  "  he  answered,  with 
an  everyday  air.  "  That  is  as  you  please  to  call 
it.  One  thing  is  certain,  however,"  he  continued, 
maliciously  touching  an  arquebuss  which  he  had 
produced  and  set  upright  against  a  chair  while 
I  was  at  the  door ;  "  if  you  attempt  the  slightest 
resistance,  we  shall  know  how  to  put  an  end  to 
it,  either  here  or  on  the  road." 

I  drew  a  deep  breath.  The  very  imminence  of 
the  danger  restored  me  to  the  use  of  my  faculties. 
I  changed  my  tone  and  laughed  aloud.  "  So 
that  is  your  plan,  is  it  ? "  I  said.  "  The  sooner 
we  start  the  better,  then.  And  the  sooner  I  see 
Auch  and  your  back  turned,  the  more  I  shall  be 
pleased." 


REVENGE.  123 

He  rose.     "After  you,  Monsieur,"  he  said. 

I  could  not  restrain  a  slight  shiver.  His  new- 
born politeness  alarmed  me  more  than  his  threats. 
I  knew  the  man  and  his  ways,  and  I  was  sure 
that  it  boded  ill  for  me. 

But  I  had  no  pistols,  and  only  my  sword  and 
knife,  and  I  knew  that  resistance  at  this  point 
must  be  worse  than  vain.  I  went  out  jauntily, 
therefore,  the  landlord  coming  after  me  with  my 
saddle  and  bags. 

The  street  was  empty,  save  for  the  two  wait- 
ing horsemen  who  sat  in  their  saddles  looking 
doggedly  before  them.  The  sun  had  not  yet 
risen,  the  air  was  raw.  The  sky  was  grey, 
cloudy,  and  cold.  My  thoughts  flew  back  to 
the  morning  on  which  I  had  found  the  sachet 
—  at  that  very  spot,  almost  at  that  very  hour ; 
and  for  a  moment  I  grew  warm  again  at  the 
thought  of  the  little  packet  I  carried  in  my 
boot.  But  the  landlord's  dry  manner,  the  sullen 
silence  of  his  two  companions,  whose  eyes  steadily 
refused  to  meet  mine,  chilled  me  again.  For  an 
instant  the  impulse  to  refuse  to  mount,  to  refuse 
to  go,  was  almost  irresistible ;  then,  knowing  the 


124  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

madness  of  such  a  course,  which  might,  and 
probably  would,  give  the  men  the  chance  they 
desired,  I  crushed  it  down  and  went  slowly  to 
my  stirrup. 

"  I  wonder  you  do  not  want  my  sword,"  I 
said  by  way  of  sarcasm,  as  I  swung  myself  up. 

"We  are  not  afraid  of  it,"  the  innkeeper 
answered  gravely.  "You  may  keep  it  —  for  the 
present." 

I  made  no  answer  —  what  answer  had  I  to 
make  ?  —  and  we  rode  at  a  foot-pace  down  the 
street;  he  and  I  leading,  Clon  and  the  shock- 
headed  man  bringing  up  the  rear.  The  leisurely 
mode  of  our  departure,  the  absence  of  hurry 
or  even  haste,  the  men's  indifference  whether 
they  were  seen,  or  what  was  thought,  all  served 
to  sink  my  spirits,  and  deepen  my  sense  of 
peril.  I  felt  that  they  suspected  me,  that  they 
more  than  half  guessed  the  nature  of  my  errand 
at  Cocheforet,  and  that  they  were  not  minded 
to  be  bound  by  Mademoiselle's  orders.  In  par- 
ticular I  augured  the  worst  from  Clon's  appear- 
ance. His  lean  malevolent  face  and  sunken 
eyes,  his  very  dumbness  chilled  me.  Mercy  had 
no  place  there. 


REVENGE.         .  125 

We  rode  soberly,  so  that  nearly  half  an  hour 
elapsed  before  we  gained  the  brow  from  which 
I  had  taken  my  first  look  at  Cocheforet.  Among 
the  dwarf  oaks  whence  I  had  viewed  the  valley 
we  paused  to  breathe  our  horses,  and  the  strange 
feelings  with  which  I  looked  back  on  the  scene 
may  be  imagined.  But  I  had  short  time  for 
indulging  in  sentiment  or  recollections.  A  curt 
word,  and  we  were  moving  again. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  on  the  road  to 
Auch  dipped  into  the  valley.  When  we  were 
already  half-way  down  this  descent  the  inn- 
keeper suddenly  stretched  out  his  hand  and 
caught  my  rein.  "  This  way !  "  he  said. 

I  saw  he  would  have  me  turn  into  a  by-path 
leading  south-westwards  —  a  mere  track,  faint 
and  little  trodden  and  encroached  on  by  trees, 
which  led  I  knew  not  whither.  I  checked  my 
horse.  "  Why  ?  "  I  said  rebelliously.  "  Do  you 
think  I  do  not  know  the  road  ?  This  is  the  way 
to  Auch." 

"To  Auch  —  yes,"  he  answered  bluntly.  "  But 
we  are  not  going  to  Auch." 

"  Whither  then  ?  "  I  said  angrily. 


126  UNDER  THE  RED  ROSE. 

"  You  will  see  presently,"  he  replied,  with  an 
ugly  smile. 

"  Yes,  but  I  will  know  now !  "  I  retorted,  pas- 
sion getting  the  better  of  me.  "  I  have  come  so 
far  with  you.  You  will  find  it  more  easy  to 
take  me  farther,  if  you  tell  me  your  plans." 

"  You  are  a  fool ! "  he  cried,  with  a  snarl. 

"  Not  so,"  I  answered.  "  I  ask  only  to  know 
whither  I  am  going." 

"Into  Spain,"  he  said.  "Will  that  satisfy 
you  ?  " 

"  And  what  will  you  do  with  me  there  ?  "  I 
asked,  my  heart  giving  a  great  bound. 

"  Hand  you  over  to  some  friends  of  ours,"  he 
answered  curtly,  "if  you  behave  yourself.  If 
not,  there  is  a  shorter  way,  and  one  that  will 
save  us  some  travelling.  Make  up  your  mind, 
Monsieur.  Which  shall  it  be?" 


CHAPTER  VI. 

UNDER   THE   PIC   DU   MIDI. 

So  that  was  their  plan.  Two  or  three  hours 
to  the  southward,  the  long  white  glittering  wall 
stretched  east  and  west  above  the  brown  woods. 
Beyond  that  lay  Spain.  Once  across  the  border, 
I  might  be  detained,  if  no  worse  happened  to  me, 
as  a  prisoner  of  war;  for  we  were  then  at  war 
with  Spain  on  the  Italian  side.  Or  I  might  be 
handed  over  to  one  of  the  savage  bands,  half 
smugglers,  half  brigands,  that  held  the  passes  ;  or 
be  delivered  —  worst  fate  of  all — into  the  power 
of  the  French  exiles,  of  whom  some  would  be 
likely  to  recognize  me  and  cut  my  throat. 

"  It  is  a  long  way  into  Spain,"  I  muttered, 
watching  in  a  kind  of  fascination  Clon  handling 
his  pistols. 

"  I  think  you  will  find  the  other  road  longer 
127 


128  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

still  !  "  the  landlord  answered  grimly.  "  But 
choose,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

They  were  three  to  one,  and  they  had  firearms. 
In  effect  I  had  no  choice.  "  Well,  if  I  must  I 
must !  "  I  cried,  making  up  my  mind  with  seeming 
recklessness.  "  Vogue  la  galore  !  Spain  be  it.  It 
will  not  be  the  first  time  I  have  heard  the  dons 
talk." 

The  men  nodded,  as  much  as  to  say  that  they 
had  known  what  the  end  would  be ;  the  landlord 
released  my  rein ;  and  in  a  trice  we  were  riding 
down  the  narrow  track,  with  our  faces  set  towards 
the  mountains. 

On  one  point  my  mind  was  now  more  easy. 
The  men  meant  fairly  by  me ;  and  I  had  no 
longer  to  fear,  as  I  had  feared,  a  pistol  shot  in  the 
back  at  the  first  convenient  ravine.  As  far  as 
that  went,  I  might  ride  in  peace.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  I  let  them  carry  me  across  the  border  my 
fate  was  sealed.  A  man  set  down  without  creden- 
tials or  guards  among  the  wild  desperadoes  who 
swarmed  in  war  time  in  the  Asturian  passes  might 
consider  himself  fortunate  if  an  easy  death  fell  to 
his  lot.  In  my  case  I  could  make  a  shrewd  guess 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  129 

what  would  happen.  A  single  nod  of  meaning, 
one  muttered  word,  dropped  among  the  savage 
men  with  whom  I  should  be  left,  and  the  dia- 
monds hidden  in  my  boot  would  go  neither  to  the 
Cardinal  nor  back  to  Mademoiselle  —  nor  would 
it  matter  to  me  whither  they  went. 

So  while  the  others  talked  in  their  taciturn 
fashion,  or  sometimes  grinned  at  my  gloomy  face, 
I  looked  out  over  the  brown  woods  with  eyes  that 
saw,  yet  did  not  see.  The  red  squirrel  swarming 
up  the  trunk,  the  startled  pigs  that  rushed  away 
grunting  from  their  feast  of  mast,  the  solitary 
rider  who  met  us,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  passed 
northwards  after  whispering  with  the  landlord  — 
all  these  I  saw.  But  my  mind  was  not  with  them. 
It  was  groping  and  feeling  about  like  a  hunted 
mole  for  some  way  of  escape.  For  time  pressed. 
The  slope  we  were  on  was  growing  steeper.  By- 
and-bye  we  fell  into  a  southward  valley,  and  began 
to  follow  it  steadily  upwards,  crossing  and  recross- 
ing  a  swiftly  rushing  stream.  The  snow-peaks 
began  to  be  hidden  behind  the  rising  bulk  of  hills 
that  overhung  us ;  and  sometimes  we  could  see 
nothing  before  or  behind  but  the  wooded  walls 


130  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

of  our  valley  rising  sheer  and  green  a  thousand 
paces  on  either  hand,  with  grey  rocks  half  masked 
by  fern  and  ivy  getting  here  and  there  through 
the  firs  and  alders. 

It  was  a  wild  and  sombre  scene  even  at  that 
hour,  with  the  midday  sun  shining  on  the  rushing 
water  and  drawing  the  scent  out  of  the  pines; 
but  I  knew  that  there  was  worse  to  come,  and 
sought  desperately  for  some  ruse  by  which  I 
might  at  least  separate  the  men.  Three  were  too 
many;  with  one  I  might  deal.  At  last,  when  I 
had  cudgelled  my  brain  for  an  hour,  and  almost 
resigned  myself  to  a  sudden  charge  on  the  men 
single-handed — a  last  desperate  resort — I  thought 
of  a  plan,  dangerous,  too,  and  almost  desperate, 
but  which  still  seemed  to  promise  something.  It 
came  of  my  fingers  resting  in  my  pocket  on  the 
fragments  of  the  orange  sachet,  which,  without 
having  any  particular  design  in  my  mind,  I  had 
taken  care  to  bring  with  me.  I  had  torn  the 
sachet  into  four  pieces  —  four  corners.  As  I 
played  mechanically  with  them,  one  of  my  fingers 
fitted  into  one,  as  into  a  glove ;  a  second  finger 
into  another.  And  the  plan  came. 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  13  f 

Still,  before  I  could  move  in  it,  I  had  to  wait 
until  we  stopped  to  bait  the  flagging  horses,  which 
we  did  about  noon  at  the  head  of  the  valley. 
Then,  pretending  to  drink  from  the  stream,  I  man- 
aged to  secure  unseen  a  handful  of  pebbles,  slip- 
ping them  into  the  same  pocket  with  the  morsels 
of  stuff.  On  getting  to  horse  again,  I  carefully 
fitted  a  pebble,  not  too  tightly,  into  the  largest 
scrap,  and  made  ready  for  the  attempt. 

The  landlord  rode  on  my  left,  abreast  of  me; 
the  other  two  knaves  behind.  The  road  at  this 
stage  favoured  me,  for  the  valley,  which  drained 
the  bare  uplands  that  lay  between  the  lower  spurs 
and  the  base  of  the  real  mountains,  had  become 
wide  and  shallow.  Here  were  no  trees,  and  the 
path  was  a  mere  sheep-track  covered  with  short 
crisp  grass,  and  running  sometimes  on  this  bank 
of  the  stream  and  sometimes  on  that. 

I  waited  until  the  ruffian  beside  me  turned  to 
speak  to  the  men  behind.  The  moment  he  did  so 
and  his  eyes  were  averted,  I  slipped  out  the  scrap 
of  satin  in  which  I  had  placed  the  pebble,  and 
balancing  it  carefully  on  my  right  thigh  as  I  rode, 
I  flipped  it  forward  with  all  the  strength  of  my 


132  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

thumb  and  finger.  I  meant  it  to  fall  a  few  paces 
before  us  in  the  path,  where  it  could  be  seen. 
But  alas  for  my  hopes !  At  the  critical  moment 
my  horse  started,  my  finger  struck  the  scrap 
aslant,  the  pebble  flew  out,  and  the  bit  of  stuff 
fluttered  into  a  whin-bush  close  to  my  stirrup  — 
and  was  lost ! 

I  was  bitterly  disappointed,  for  the  same  thing 
might  happen  again,  and  I  had  now  only  three 
scraps  left.  But  fortune  favoured  me,  by  putting 
it  into  my  neighbour's  head  to  plunge  into  a  hot 
debate  with  the  shock-headed  man  on  the  nature 
of  some  animals  seen  on  a  distant  brow ;  which  he 
said  were  izards,  while  the  other  maintained  that 
they  were  common  goats.  He  continued,  on  this 
account,  to  ride  with  his  face  turned  the  other 
way.  I  had  time  to  fit  another  pebble  into  the 
second  piece  of  stuff,  and  sliding  it  on  to  my 
thigh,  poised  it,  and  flipped  it. 

This  time  my  finger  struck  the  tiny  missile 
fairly  in  the  middle,  and  shot  it  so  far  and  so 
truly  that  it  dropped  exactly  in  the  path  ten  paces 
in  front  of  us.  The  moment  I  saw  it  fall  I  kicked 
my  neighbour's  nag  in  the  ribs;  it  started,  and 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  133 

he,  turning  in  a  rage,  hit  it.  The  next  instant 
he  pulled  it  almost  on  to  its  haunches. 

"  Saint  Gris  !  "  he  cried ;  and  sat  glaring  at  the 
bit  of  yellow  satin,  with  his  face  turned  purple 
and  his  jaw  fallen. 

"What  is  it?"  I  said,  staring  at  him  in  turn. 
"What  is  the  matter,  fool?" 

"Matter?"  he  blurted  out.     "MonDieu!" 

But  Clon's  excitement  surpassed  even  his.  The 
dumb  man  no  sooner  saw  what  had  attracted  his 
comrade's  attention,  than  he  uttered  an  inarticu- 
late and  horrible  noise,  and  tumbling  off  his  horse, 
more  like  a  beast  than  a  man,  threw  himself  bodily 
on  the  precious  morsel. 

The  innkeeper  was  not  far  behind  him.  An 
instant  and  he  was  down,  too,  peering  at  the 
thing;  and  for  an  instant  I  thought  that  they 
would  fight  over  it.  However,  though  their  jeal- 
ousy was  evident,  their  excitement  cooled  a  little 
when  they  discovered  that  the  scrap  of  stuff  was 
empty ;  for,  fortunately,  the  pebble  had  fallen  out 
of  it.  Still,  it  threw  them  into  such  a  fever  of 
eagerness  as  it  was  wonderful  to  witness.  They 
nosed  the  ground  where  it  had  lain,  they  plucked 


134  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

up  the  grass  and  turf,  and  passed  it  through  their 
fingers,  they  ran  to  and  fro  like  dogs  on  a  trail ; 
and,  glancing  askance  at  one  another,  came  back 
always  together  to  the  point  of  departure.  Neither 
in  his  jealousy  would  suffer  the  other  to  be  there 
alone. 

The  shock-headed  man  and  I  sat  our  horses 
and  looked  on ;  he  marvelling,  and  I  pretending 
to  marvel.  As  the  two  searched  up  and  down 
the  path,  we  moved  a  little  out  of  it  to  give  them 
space ;  and  presently,  when  all  their  heads  were 
turned  from  me,  I  let  a  second  morsel  drop  under 
a  gorse-bush.  The  shock-headed  man,  by-and-bye, 
found  this,  and  gave  it  to  Clon ;  and,  as  from  the 
circumstances  of  the  first  discovery  no  suspicion 
attached  to  me,  I  ventured  to  find  the  third  and 
last  scrap  myself.  I  did  not  pick  it  up,  but  I 
called  the  innkeeper,  and  he  pounced  on  it  as  I 
have  seen  a  hawk  pounce  on  a  chicken. 

They  hunted  for  the  fourth  morsel,  but,  of 
course,  in  vain,  and  in  the  end  they  desisted, 
and  fitted  the  three  they  had  together;  but 
neither  would  let  his  own  portion  out  of  his 
hands,  and  each  looked  at  the  other  across  the 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  13$ 

spoil  with  eyes  of  suspicion.  It  was  strange  to 
see  them  in  that  wide-stretching  valley,  whence 
grey  boar-backs  of  hills  swelled  up  into  the  silence 
of  the  snow  —  it  was  strange,  I  say,  in  that  vast 
solitude  to  see  these  two,  mere  dots  on  its  bosom, 
circling  round  one  another  in  fierce  forgetfulness 
of  the  outside  world,  glaring  and  shifting  their 
ground  like  cocks  about  to  engage,  and  wholly 
engrossed  —  by  three  scraps  of  orange-colour, 
invisible  at  fifty  paces ! 

At  last  the  innkeeper  cried  with  an  oath :  "  I 
am  going  back.  This  must  be  known  down 
yonder.  Give  me  your  pieces,  man,  and  do  you 
go  with  Antoine.  It  will  be  all  right." 

But  Clon,  waving  a  scrap  in  either  hand  and 
thrusting  his  ghastly  mask  into  the  other's  face, 
shook  his  head  in  passionate  denial.  He  could 
not  speak,  but  he  made  it  clear  that  if  any  one 
went  back  with  the  news  he  was  the  man  to  go. 

"  Nonsense !  "  the  landlord  retorted  fiercely. 
"We  cannot  leave  Antoine  to  go  on  alone  with 
him.  Give  me  the  stuff." 

But  Clon  would  not.  He  had  no  thought  of 
resigning  the  credit  of  the  discovery,  and  I  began 


136  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

to  think  that  the  two  would  really  come  to  blows. 
But  there  was  an  alternative,  and  first  one  and 
then  the  other  looked  at  me.  It  was  a  moment 
of  peril,  and  I  knew  it.  My  stratagem  might 
react  on  myself,  and  the  two,  to  put  an  end  to 
this  difficulty,  agree  to  put  an  end  to  me.  But 
I  faced  them  so  coolly  and  showed  so  bold  a 
front,  and  the  ground  was  so  open,  that  the  idea 
took  no  root.  They  fell  to  wrangling  again  more 
viciously  than  before.  One  tapped  his  gun  and 
the  other  his  pistols.  The  landlord  scolded,  the 
dumb  man  gurgled.  At  last  their  difference 
ended  as  I  had  hoped  it  would. 

"  Very  well  then,  we  will  both  go  back ! "  the 
innkeeper  cried  in  a  rage.  "  And  Antoine  must 
see  him  on.  But  the  blame  be  on  your  head. 
Do  you  give  the  lad  your  pistols." 

Clon  took  one  pistol  and  gave  it  to  the  shock- 
headed  man. 

"  The  other ! "  the  innkeeper  said  impatiently. 

But  Clon  shook  his  head  with  a  grim  smile, 
and  pointed  to  the  arquebuss. 

By  a  sudden  movement  the  landlord  snatched 
the  pistol,  and  averted  Clon's  vengeance  by 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  137 

placing  both  it  and  the  gun  in  the  shock-headed 
man's  hands.  "  There !  "  he  said,  addressing  the 
latter,  "  now  can  you  do  ?  If  Monsieur  tries  to 
escape  or  turn  back,  shoot  him !  But  four  hours' 
riding  should  bring  you  to  the  Roca  Blanca. 
You  will  find  the  men  there,  and  will  have  no 
more  to  do  with  it." 

Antoine  did  not  see  things  quite  in  that  light, 
however.  He  looked  at  me,  and  then  at  the 
wild  track  in  front  of  us ;  and  he  muttered  an 
oath  and  said  he  would  die  if  he  would.  But 
the  landlord,  who  was  in  a  frenzy  of  impatience, 
drew  him  aside  and  talked  to  him,  and  in  the 
end  seemed  to  persuade  him ;  for  in  a  few 
minutes  the  matter  was  settled.  Antoine  came 
back  and  said  sullenly,  "  Forward,  Monsieur,"  the 
two  others  stood  on  one  side,  I  shrugged  my 
shoulders  and  kicked  up  my  horse,  and  in  a 
twinkling  we  two  were  riding  on  together  —  man 
to  man.  I  turned  once  or  twice  to  see  what 
those  we  had  left  behind  were  doing,  and  always 
found  them  standing  in  apparent  debate ;  but 
my  guard  showed  so  much  jealousy  of  these 
movements  that  I  presently  shrugged  my  shoul- 
ders again  and  desisted. 


138  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

I  had  racked  my  brains  to  bring  about  this 
state  of  things.  But,  strange  to  say,  now  I  had 
succeeded,  I  found  it  less  satisfactory  than  I 
had  hoped.  I  had  reduced  the  odds  and  got  rid 
of  my  most  dangerous  antagonists ;  but  Antoine, 
left  to  himself,  proved  to  be  as  full  of  suspicion 
as  an  egg  of  meat.  He  rode  a  little  behind  me 
with  his  gun  across  his  saddle-bow,  and  a  pistol 
near  his  hand,  and  at  the  slightest  pause  on  my 
part,  or  if  I  turned  to  look  at  him,  he  muttered 
his  constant  "  Forward,  Monsieur !  "  in  a  tone 
that  warned  me  that  his  finger  was  on  the  trigger. 
At  such  a  distance  he  could  not  miss ;  and  I 
saw  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  on  meekly  before 
him  —  to  the  Roca  Blanca  and  my  fate. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  road  presently 
reached  the  end  of  the  valley  and  entered  a 
narrow  pine-clad  defile,  strewn  with  rocks  and 
boulders,  over  which  the  torrent  plunged  and 
eddied  with  a  deafening  roar.  In  front  the  white 
gleam  of  waterfalls  broke  the  sombre  ranks  of 
climbing  trunks.  The  snow-line  lay  less  than  half 
a  mile  away  on  either  hand;  and  crowning  all  — 
at  the  end  of  the  pass,  as  it  seemed  to  the  eye 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  139 

—  rose  the  pure  white  pillar  of  the  Pic  du  Midi 
shooting  up  six  thousand  feet  into  the  blue  of 
heaven.  Such  a  scene,  so  suddenly  disclosed,  was 
enough  to  drive  the  sense  of  danger  from  my 
mind ;  and  for  a  moment  I  reined  in  my  horse. 
But  "  Forward,  Monsieur !  "  came  the  grating 
order.  I  fell  to  earth  again,  and  went  on.  What 
was  to  be  done  ? 

I  was  at  my  wit's  end  to  know.  The  man 
refused  to  talk,  refused  to  ride  abreast  of  me, 
would  have  no  dismounting,  no  halting,  no  com- 
munication at  all.  He  would  have  nothing  but 
this  silent,  lonely  procession  of  two,  with  the 
muzzle  of  his  gun  at  my  back.  And  meanwhile 
we  were  fast  climbing  the  pass.  We  had  left 
the  others  an  hour  —  nearly  two.  The  sun  was 
declining;  the  time,  I  supposed,  about  half-past 
three. 

If  he  would  only  let  me  come  within  reach 
of  him !  Or  if  anything  would  fall  out  to  take 
his  attention !  When  the  pass  presently  widened 
into  a  bare  and  dreary  valley,  strewn  with  huge 
boulders,  and  with  snow  lying  here  and  there 
in  the  hollows,  I  looked  desperately  before  me, 


140  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

and  scanned  even  the  vast  snow-fields  that 
overhung  us  and  stretched  away  to  the  base  of 
the  ice-peak.  But  I  saw  nothing.  No  bear 
swung  across  the  path,  no  izard  showed  itself 
on  the  cliffs.  The  keen  sharp  air  cut  our 
cheeks  and  warned  me  that  we  were  approach- 
ing the  summit  of  the  ridge.  On  all  sides  were 
silence  and  desolation. 

Mon  Dieu !  And  the  ruffians  on  whose 
tender  mercies  I  was  to  be  thrown  might  come 
to  meet  us !  They  might  appear  at  any  mo- 
ment. In  my  despair  I  loosened  my  hat  on  my 
head,  and  let  the  first  gust  carry  it  to  the 
ground,  and  then  with  an  oath  of  annoyance 
tossed  my  feet  loose  to  go  after  it.  But  the 
rascal  roared  to  me  to  keep  my  seat. 

"Forward,  Monsieur!"  he  shouted  brutally. 
"Go  on!" 

"But  my  hat!"  I  cried.  " Mille  tonnerres, 
man  !  I  must  —  " 

"  Forward,  Monsieur,  or  I  shoot !  "  he  replied 
inexorably,  raising  his  gun.  "  One  —  two  —  " 

And  I  went  on.  But,  oh,  I  was  wrathful ! 
That  I,  Gil  de  Berault,  should  be  outwitted  and 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  141 

led  by  the  nose,  like  a  ringed  bull,  by  this 
Gascon  lout!  That  I,  whom  all  Paris  knew 
and  feared  —  if  it  did  not  love  —  the  terror  of 
Zaton's,  should  come  to  my  end  in  this  dismal 
waste  of  snow  and  rock,  done  to  death  by  some 
pitiful  smuggler  or  thief !  It  must  not  be ! 
Surely  in  the  last  resort  I  could  give  an  account 
of  one  man,  though  his  belt  were  stuffed  with 
pistols ! 

But  how?  Only,  it  seemed,  by  open  force. 
My  heart  began  to  flutter  as  I  planned  it;  and 
then  grew  steady  again.  A  hundred  paces 
before  us  a  gully  or  ravine  on  the  left  ran  up 
into  the  snow-field.  Opposite  its  mouth  a  jum- 
ble of  stones  and  broken  rocks  covered  the 
path.  I  marked  this  for  the  place.  The  knave 
would  need  both  his  hands  to  hold  up  his  nag 
over  the  stones,  and,  if  I  turned  on  him  sud- 
denly enough,  he  might  either  drop  his  gun,  or 
fire  it  harmlessly. 

But,  in  the  meantime,  something  happened; 
as,  at  the  last  moment,  things  do  happen. 
While  we  were  still  fifty  yards  short  of  the 
place,  I  found  his  horse's  nose  creeping  for- 


142  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

ward  on  a  level  with  my  crupper;  and,  still 
advancing,  until  I  could  see  it  out  of  the  tail  of 
my  eye,  and  my  heart  gave  a  great  bound.  He 
was  coming  abreast  of  me :  he  was  going  to 
deliver  himself  into  my  hands !  To  cover  my 
excitement,  I  began  to  whistle. 

"  Hush ! "  he  muttered  fiercely :  his  voice 
sounding  strange  and  unnatural.  My  first 
thought  was  that  he  was  ill,  and  I  turned  to 
him.  But  he  only  said  again,  "  Hush !  Pass 
by  here  quietly,  Monsieur." 

"Why?"  I  asked  mutinously,  curiosity  get- 
ting the  better  of  me.  For  had  I  been  wise  I 
had  taken  no  notice;  every  second  his  horse 
was  coming  up  with  mine.  Its  nose  was  level 
with  my  stirrup  already. 

"  Hush,  man ! "  he  said  again.  This  time 
there  was  no  mistake  about  the  panic  in  his 
voice.  "They  call  this  the  Devil's  Chapel. 
God  send  us  safe  by  it!  It  is  late  to  be  here. 
Look  at  those ! "  he  continued,  pointing  with 
a  finger  which  visibly  shook. 

I  looked.  At  the  mouth  of  the  gully,  in  a 
small  space  partly  cleared  of  stones  stood 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  143 

three  broken  shafts,  raised  on  rude  pedestals. 
"Well?"  I  said  in  a  low  voice.  The  sun 
which  was  near  setting  flushed  the  great  peak 
above  to  the  colour  of  blood;  but  the  valley 
was  growing  grey  and  each  moment  more 
dreary.  "  Well,  what  of  those  ? "  I  said.  In 
spite  of  my  peril  and  the  excitement  of  the 
coming  struggle  I  felt  the  chill  of  his  fear. 
Never  had  I  seen  so  grim,  so  desolate,  so  God- 
forsaken a  place !  Involuntarily  I  shivered. 

"They  were  crosses,"  he  muttered,  in  a  voice 
little  above  a  whisper,  while  his  eyes  roved  this 
way  and  that  in  terror.  "The  Cure  of  Gabas 
blessed  the  place,  and  set  them  up.  But  next 
morning  they  were  as  you  see  them  now.  Come 
on,  Monsieur,  come  on ! "  he  continued,  pluck- 
ing at  my  arm.  "It  is  not  safe  here  after  sun- 
set. Pray  God,  Satan  be  not  at  home ! " 

He  had  completely  forgotten  in  his  panic 
that  he  had  anything  to  fear  from  me.  His 
gun  dropped  loosely  across  his  saddle,  his  leg 
rubbed  mine.  I  saw  this,  and  I  changed  my 
plan  of  action.  As  our  horses  reached  the 
stones  I  stooped,  as  if  to  encourage  mine,  and 


144  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

by  a  sudden  clutch  snatched  the  gun  bodily 
from  his  hand;  at  the  same  time  I  backed  my 
horse  with  all  my  strength.  It  was  done  in  a 
moment !  A  second  and  I  had  him  at  the  end 
of  the  gun,  and  my  finger  was  on  the  trigger. 
Never  was  victory  more  easily  gained. 

He  looked  at  me  between  rage  and  terror, 
his  jaw  fallen.  "  Are  you  mad  ? "  he  cried,  his 
teeth  chattering  as  he  spoke.  Even  in  this 
strait  his  eyes  left  me  and  wandered  round  in 
alarm. 

"No,  sane!"  I  retorted  fiercely.  "But  I  do 
not  like  this  place  any  better  than  you  do ! " 
Which  was  true  enough,  if  not  quite  true.  "  So, 
by  your  right,  quick  march ! "  I  continued  imper- 
atively. "Turn  your  horse,  my  friend,  or  take 
the  consequences." 

He  turned  like  a  lamb,  and  headed  down  the 
valley  again,  without  giving  a  thought  to  his 
pistols.  I  kept  close  to  him,  and  in  less  than 
a  minute  we  had  left  the  Devil's  Chapel  well 
behind  us,  and  were  moving  down  again  as  we 
had  come  up.  Only  now  I  held  the  gun. 

When  we   had   gone  half  a  mile  or  so  —  until 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  14$ 

then  I  did  not  feel  comfortable  myself,  and 
though  I  thanked  Heaven  the  place  existed, 
thanked  Heaven  also  that  I  was  out  of  it  — 
I  bade  him  halt.  "  Take  off  your  belt !  "  I  said 
curtly,  "and  throw  it  down.  But,  mark  me,  if 
you  turn,  I  fire  !  " 

The  spirit  was  quite  gone  out  of  him.  He 
obeyed  mechanically.  I  jumped  down,  still  cov- 
ering him  with  the  gun,  and  picked  up  the  belt, 
pistols  and  all.  Then  I  remounted,  and  we  went 
on.  By-and-bye  he  asked  me  sullenly  what  I 
was  going  to  do. 

"  Go  back,"  I  said,  "  and  take  the  road  to 
Auch  when  I  come  to  it." 

"  It  will  be  dark  in  an  hour,"  he  answered 
sulkily. 

"  I  know  that,"  I  retorted.  "  We  must  camp 
and  do  the  best  we  can." 

And  as  I  said,  we  did.  The  daylight  held 
until  we  gained  the  skirts  of  the  pine-wood  at 
the  head  of  the  pass.  Here  I  chose  a  corner  a 
little  off  the  track,  and  well-sheltered  from  the 
wind,  and  bade  him  light  a  fire.  I  tethered  the 
horses  near  this  and  within  sight.  It  remained 


146  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

only  to  sup.  I  had  a  piece  of  bread ;  he  had 
another  and  an  onion.  We  ate  in  silence,  sitting 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  fire. 

But  after  supper  I  found  myself  in  a  dilemma ; 
I  did  not  see  how  I  was  to  sleep.  The  ruddy 
light  which  gleamed  on  the  knave's  swart  face 
and  sinewy  hands  showed  also  his  eyes,  black, 
sullen,  and  watchful.  I  knew  that  the  man  was 
plotting  revenge ;  that  he  would  not  hesitate  to 
plant  his  knife  between  my  ribs  should  I  give 
him  a  chance.  I  could  find  only  one  alternative 
to  remaining  awake.  Had  I  been  bloody-minded, 
I  should  have  chosen  it  and  solved  the  question 
at  once  and  in  my  favour  by  shooting  him  as 
he  sat. 

But  I  have  never  been  a  cruel  man,  and  I 
could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  do  this.  The 
silence  of  the  mountain  and  the  sky  —  which 
seemed  a  thing  apart  from  the  roar  of  the  tor- 
rent and  not  to  be  broken  by  it  —  awed  me. 
The  vastness  of  the  solitude  in  which  we  sat, 
the  dark  void  above  through  which  the  stars  kept 
shooting,  the  black  gulf  below  in  which  the  un- 
seen waters  boiled  and  surged,  the  absence  of 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  147 

other  human  company  or  other  signs  of  human 
existence  put  such  a  face  upon  the  deed  that  I 
gave  up  the  thought  of  it  with  a  shudder,  and 
resigned  myself,  instead,  to  watch  through  the 
night  —  the  long,  cold,  Pyrenean  night.  Pres- 
ently he  curled  himself  up  like  a  dog  and  slept 
in  the  blaze,  and  then  for  a  couple  of  hours  I 
sat  opposite  him,  thinking.  It  seemed  years 
since  I  had  seen  Zaton's  or  thrown  the  dice. 
The  old  life,  the  old  employments  —  should  I  ever 
go  back  to  them  ?  —  seemed  dim  and  distant. 
Would  Cocheforet,  the  forest  and  the  mountain, 
the  grey  Chateau  and  its  mistresses,  seem  one 
day  as  dim !  And  if  one  bit  of  life  could  fade 
so  quickly  at  the  unrolling  of  another,  and  seem 
in  a  moment  pale  and  colourless,  would  all  life 
some  day  and  somewhere,  and  all  the  things  we 
—  But  faugh  !  I  was  growing  foolish.  I  sprang 
up  and  kicked  the  wood  together,  and,  taking  up 
the  gun,  began  to  pace  to  and  fro  under  the  cliff. 
Strange  that  a  little  moonlight,  a  few  stars, .  a 
breath  of  solitude  should  carry  a  man  back  to 

childhood  and  childish  things ! 

***** 

L   2 


148  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

It  was  three  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day, 
and  the  sun  lay  hot  on  the  oak  groves,  and  the 
air  was  full  of  warmth  as  we  began  to  climb  the 
slope,  on  which  the  road  to  Auch  shoots  out  of 
the  track.  The  yellow  bracken  and  the  fallen 
leaves  underfoot  seemed  to  throw  up  light  of 
themselves,  and  here  and  there  a  patch  of  ruddy 
beech  lay  like  a  bloodstain  on  the  hillside.  In 
front  a  herd  of  pigs  routed  among  the  mast, 
and  grunted  lazily;  and  high  above  us  a  boy 
lay  watching  them.  "We  part  here,"  I  said  to 
my  companion.  It  was  my  plan  to  ride  a  little 
way  on  the  road  to  Auch  so  as  to  blind  his  eyes ; 
then,  leaving  my  horse  in  the  forest,  I  would  go 
on  foot  to  the  Chateau. 

"  The  sooner  the  better ! "  he  answered,  with  a 
snarl.  "  And  I  hope  I  may  never  see  your  face 
again,  Monsieur ! " 

But  when  we  came  to  the  wooden  cross  at  the 
fork  of  the  roads,  and  were  about  to  part,  the  boy 
we  had  seen  leapt  out  of  the  fern  and  came  to 
meet  us.  "  Hollo  !  "  he  cried,  in  a  sing-song  tone. 

"  Well !  "  my  companion  answered,  drawing 
rein  impatiently.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  149 

"  There  are  soldiers  in  the  village." 

"  Soldiers  ?  "    Antoine  cried  incredulously. 

"  Ay,  devils  on  horseback !  "  the  lad  answered, 
spitting  on  the  ground.  "  Three  score  of  them ! 
From  Audi!" 

Antoine  turned  to  me,  his  face  transformed 
with  fury.  "  Curse  you !  "  he  cried.  "  This  is 
some  of  your  work !  Now  we  are  all  undone  ! 
And  my  mistresses!  Sacr/f  if  I  had  that  gun 
I  would  shoot  you  like  a  rat ! " 

"  Steady,  fool ! "  I  answered  roughly.  "  I 
know  no  more  of  this  than  you  do !  " 

This  was  so  true  that  my  surprise  was  as  great 
as  his.  The  Cardinal,  who  rarely  made  a  change 
of  front,  had  sent  me  hither  that  he  might  not 
be  forced  to  send  soldiers,  and  run  the  risk  of 
all  that  might  arise  from  such  a  movement. 
What  of  this  invasion,  then,  than  which  nothing 
could  be  less  consistent  with  his  plans  ?  I  won- 
dered. It  was  possible,  of  course,  that  the  trav- 
elling merchants,  before  whom  I  had  played  at 
treason,  had  reported  the  facts ;  and  that  on 
this  the  Commandant  at  Auch  had  acted.  But 
it  seemed  unlikely.  He  had  had  his  orders,  too* 


ISO  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

and,  under  the  Cardinal's  rule,  there  was  small 
place  for  individual  enterprise.  I  could  not 
understand  it. 

One  thing  was  clear,  however.  I  might  now 
enter  the  village  as  I  pleased.  "  I  am  going  on 
to  look  into  this,"  I  said  to  Antoine.  "  Come, 
my  man." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  stood  still. 
"  Not  I !  "  he  answered,  with  an  oath.  "  No 
soldiers  for  me!  I  have  lain  out  one  night,  and 
I  can  lie  out  another !  " 

I  nodded  indifferently,  for  I  no  longer  wanted 
him  ;  and  we  parted.  After  this,  twenty  minutes' 
riding  brought  me  to  the  entrance  of  the  village ; 
and  here  the  change  was  great  indeed.  Not 
one  of  the  ordinary  dwellers  in  the  place  was 
to  be  seen :  either  they  had  shut  themselves  up 
in  their  hovels,  or,  like  Antoine,  they  had  fled  to 
the  woods.  Their  doors  were  closed,  their  win- 
dows shuttered.  But  lounging  about  the  street 
were  a  score  of  dragoons,  in  boots  and  breast- 
plates, whose  short-barrelled  muskets,  with  pouches 
and  bandoliers  attached,  were  piled  near  the  inn 
door.  In  an  open  space  where  there  was  a  gap 


UNDER   THE  PIC  DU  MIDI.  151 

in  the  street,  a  long  row  of  horses,  linked  head 
to  head,  stood  bending  their  muzzles  over  bundles 
of  rough  forage,  and  on  all  sides  the  cheerful 
jingle  of  chains  and  bridles  and  the  sound  of 
coarse  jokes  and  laughter  filled  the  air. 

As  I  rode  up  to  the  inn  door  an  old  sergeant, 
with  squinting  eyes  and  his  tongue  in  his  cheeks, 
eyed  me  inquisitively,  and  started  to  cross  the 
street  to  challenge  me.  Fortunately,  at  that 
moment  the  two  knaves  whom  I  had  brought 
from  Paris  with  me,  and  whom  I  had  left  at 
Auch  to  await  my  orders,  came  up.  I  made 
them  a  sign  not  to  speak  to  me,  and  they  passed 
on  ;  but  I  suppose  that  they  told  the  sergeant 
that  I  was  not  the  man  he  wanted,  for  I  saw  no 
more  of  him. 

After  picketing  my  horse  behind  the  inn  —  I 
could  find  no  better  stable,  every  place  being 
full  —  I  pushed  my  way  through  the  group  at 
the  door,  and  entered.  The  old  room,  with  the 
low  grimy  roof  and  the  reeking  floor,  was  half 
full  of  strange  figures,  and  for  a  few  minutes  I 
stood  unseen  in  the  smoke  and  confusion.  Then 
the  landlord  came  my  way,  and  as  he  passed 


I  $2  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

me  I  caught  his  eye.  He  uttered  a  low  curse, 
dropped  the  pitcher  he  was  carrying,  and  stood 
glaring  at  me,  like  a  man  possessed. 

The  soldier  whose  wine  he  was  carrying  flung 
a  crust  in  his  face,  with,  "  Now,  greasy  ringers ! 
What  are  you  staring  at  ? " 

"  The  devil !  "  the  landlord  muttered,  beginning 
to  tremble. 

"  Then  let  me  look  at  him  !  "  the  man  retorted 
and  he  turned  on  his  stool. 

He  started,  rinding  me  standing  over  him. 
"  At  your  service !  "  I  said  grimly.  "  A  little 
time  and  it  will  be  the  other  way,  my  friend." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A   MASTER   STROKE.    . 

I  HAVE  a  way  with  me  which  commonly  com- 
mands respect;  and  when  the  landlord's  first 
terror  was  over  and  he  would  serve  me,  I  managed 
to  get  my  supper — -the  first  good  meal  I  had 
had  in  two  days  —  pretty  comfortably  in  spite 
of  the  soldiers'  presence.  The  crowd,  too,  which 
filled  the  room,  soon  began  to  melt.  The  men 
strayed  off  in  groups  to  water  their  horses,  or 
went  to  hunt  up  their  quarters,  until  only  two 
or  three  were  left.  Dusk  had  fallen  outside; 
the  noise  in  the  street  grew  less.  The  firelight 
began  to  glow  and  flicker  on  the  walls,  and  the 
wretched  room  to  look  as  homely  as  it  was  in 
its  nature  to  look.  I  was  pondering  for  the 
twentieth  time  what  step  I  should  take  next  — 
under  these  new  circumstances  —  and  why  the 
soldiers  were  here,  and  whether  I  should  let 


154  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

the  night  pass  before  I  moved,  when  the  door, 
which  had  been  turning  on  its  hinges  almost 
without  pause  for  an  hour,  opened  again,  and  a 
woman  came  in. 

She  paused  a  moment  on  the  threshold  look- 
ing round,  and  I  saw  that  she  had  a  shawl  on 
her  head  and  a  milk-pitcher  in  her  hand,  and 
that  her  feet  and  ankles  were  bare.  There  was 
a  great  rent  in  .her  coarse  stuff  petticoat,  and 
the  hand  which  held  the  shawl  together  was 
brown  and  dirty.  More  I  did  not  see ;  supposing 
her  to  be  a  neighbour  stolen  in  now  that  the 
house  was  quiet  to  get  some  milk  for  her  child 
or  the  like,  I  took  no  further  heed  of  her.  I 
turned  to  the  fire  again  and  plunged  into  my 
thoughts. 

But  to  get  to  the  hearth  where  the  goodwife 
was  fidgeting,  the  woman  had  to  pass  in  front 
of  me ;  and  as  she  passed  I  suppose  she  stole  a 
look  at  me  from  under  her  shawl.  For  just 
when  she  came  between  me  and  the  blaze  she 
uttered  a  low  cry  and  shrank  aside  —  so  quickly 
that  she  almost  stepped  on  the  hearth.  The 
next  moment  she  turned  her  back  to  me  and 


One  of  the  men  who  remained  at  the  table  laughed,  and  the 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  155 

was  stooping,  whispering  in  the  housewife's  ear. 
A  stranger  might  have  thought  that  she  had 
merely  trodden  on  a  hot  ember. 

But  another  idea,  and  a  very  sharp  one,  came 
into  my  mind;  and  I  stood  up  silently.  The 
woman's  back  was  towards  me,  but  something 
in  her  height,  her  shape,  the  pose  of  her  head, 
hidden  as  it  was  by  her  shawl,  seemed  famil- 
iar. I  waited  while  she  hung  over  the  fire 
whispering,  and  while  the  goodwife  slowly  filled 
her  pitcher  out  of  the  great  black  pot.  But  when 
she  turned  to  go,  I  took  a  step  forward  so  as 
to  bar  her  way.  And  our  eyes  met. 

I  could  not  see  her  features ;  they  were  lost 
in  the  shadow  of  the  hood.  But  I  saw  a  shiver 
run  through  her  from  head  to  foot.  And  I 
knew  then  that  I  had  made  no  mistake. 

"  That  is  too  heavy  for  you,  my  girl,"  I  said 
familiarly,  as  I  might  have  spoken  to  a  village 
wench.  "  I  will  carry  it  for  you." 

One  of  the  men,  who  remained  lolling  at  the 
table,  laughed,  and  the  other  began  to  sing  a 
low  song.  The  woman  trembled  in  rage  or  fear, 
but  she  kept  silence  and  let  me  take  the  jug 


156  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

from  her  hands.  And  when  I  went  to  the  door 
and  opened  it,  she  followed  mechanically.  An 
instant,  and  the  door  fell  to  behind  us,  shutting 
off  the  light  and  glow,  and  we  two  stood  together 
in  the  growing  dusk. 

"  It  is  late  for  you  to  be  out,  Mademoiselle," 
I  said  politely.  "You  might  meet  with  some 
rudeness,  dressed  as  you  are.  Permit  me  to  see 
you  home." 

She  shuddered,  and  I  thought  I  heard  her  sob, 
but  she  did  not  answer.  Instead,  she  turned  and 
walked  quickly  through  the  village  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Chateau,  keeping  in  the  shadow  of  the 
houses.  I  carried  the  pitcher  and  walked  beside 
her;  and  in  the  dark  I  smiled.  I  knew  how 
shame  and  impotent  rage  were  working  in  her. 
This  was  something  like  revenge ! 

Presently  I  spoke.  "Well,  Mademoiselle,"  I 
said.  "  Where  are  your  grooms  ? " 

She  gave  me  one  look,  her  eyes  blazing  with 
anger,  her  face  like  hate  itself ;  and  after  that 
I  said  no  more,  but  left  her  in  peace,  and  con- 
tented myself  with  walking  at  her  shoulder  until 
we  came  to  the  end  of  the  village,  where  the 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  Itf 

track  to  the  great  house  plunged  into  the  wood. 
There  she  stopped,  and  turned  on  me  like  a 
wild  creature  at  bay.  "  What  do  you  want  ? " 
she  cried  hoarsely,  breathing  as  if  she  had  been 
running. 

"To  see  you  safe  to  the  house,"  I  answered 
coolly. 

"  And  if  I  will  not  ?  "  she  retorted. 

"The  choice  does  not  lie  with  you,  Mademoi- 
selle," I  answered  sternly.  "  You  will  go  to  the 
house  with  me,  and  on  the  way  you  will  give 
me  an  interview  ;  but  not  here.  Here  we  are  not 
private  enough.  We  may  be  interrupted  at  any 
moment,  and  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  at  length." 

I  saw  her  shiver.  "  What  if  I  will  not  ? " 
she  said  again. 

"  I  might  call  to  the  nearest  soldiers  and  tell 
them  who  you  are,"  I  answered  coolly.  "  I 
might,  but  I  should  not.  That  were  a  clumsy 
way  of  punishing  you,  and  I  know  a  better  way. 
I  should  go  to  the  captain,  Mademoiselle,  and 
tell  him  whose  horse  is  locked  up  in  the  inn 
stable.  A  trooper  told  me  —  as  some  one  had 
told  him  — that  it  belonged  to  one  of  his  officers; 


1 58  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

but  I  looked  through  the  crack,  and  I  knew  the 
horse  again." 

She  could  not  repress  a  groan.  I  waited.  Still 
she  did  not  speak.  "  Shall  I  go  to  the  captain  ?  " 
I  said  ruthlessly. 

She  shook  the  hood  back  from  her  face,  and 
looked  at  me.  "  Oh,  you  coward !  you  coward !  " 
she  hissed  through  her  teeth.  "If  I  had  a 
knife ! " 

"  But  you  have  not,  Mademoiselle,"  I  answered, 
unmoved.  "  Be  good  enough,  therefore,  to  make  up 
your  mind  which  it  is  to  be.  Am  I  to  go  with  my 
news  to  the  captain,  or  am  I  to  come  with  you  ? " 

"  Give  me  the  pitcher !  "  she  said  harshly. 

I  did  so,  wondering.  In  a  moment  she  flung 
it  with  a  savage  gesture  far  into  the  bushes. 
"  Come  !  "  she  said,  "  if  you  will.  But  some  day 
God  will  punish  you !  " 

Without  another  word  she  turned  and  entered 
the  path  through  the  trees,  and  I  followed  her. 
I  suppose  every  turn  in  its  course,  every  hollow 
and  broken  place  in  it  had  been  known  to  her 
from  childhood,  for  she  followed  it  swiftly  and 
unerringly,  barefoot  as  she  was.  I  had  to  walk 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  159 

fast  through  the  darkness  to  keep  up  with  her. 
The  wood  was  quiet,  but  the  frogs  were  beginning 
to  croak  in  the  pool,  and  their  persistent  chorus 
reminded  me  of  the  night  when  I  had  come  to 
the  house-door  hurt  and  worn  out,  and  Clon  had 
admitted  me,  and  she  had  stood  under  the  gallery 
in  the  hall.  Things  had  looked  dark  then.  I  had 
seen  but  a  very  little  way  ahead.  Now  all  was 
plain.  The  Commandant  might  be  here  with  all 
his  soldiers,  but  it  was  I  who  held  the  strings. 

We  came  to  the  little  wooden  bridge  and  saw 
beyond  the  dark  meadows  the  lights  of  the  house. 
All  the  windows  were  bright.  Doubtless  the 
troopers  were  making  merry.  "  Now,  Made- 
moiselle," I  said  quietly.  "  I  must  trouble  you 
to  stop  here,  and  give  me  your  attention  for  a 
few  minutes.  Afterwards  you  may  go  your  way." 

"Speak!  "  she  said  defiantly.  "And  be  quick! 
I  cannot  breathe  the  air  where  you  are !  It  poi- 
sons me ! " 

"Ah!"  I  said  slowly.  "Do  you  think  you 
make  things  better  by  such  speeches  as  those  ? " 

"  Oh  !  "  she  cried  —  and  I  heard  her  teeth  click 
together.  "  Would  you  have  me  fawn  on  you  ? " 


160  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  I  answered.  "  Still  you  make 
one  mistake." 

"What  is  it?"  she  panted. 

"You  forget  that  I  am  to  be  feared  as  well 
as  —  loathed!"  I  answered  grimly.  "Ay,  Made- 
moiselle, to  be  feared!"  I  continued.  "  Do  you 
think  that  I  do  not  know  why  you  are  here  in  this 
guise  ?  Do  you  think  that  I  do  not  know  for 
whom  that  pitcher  of  broth  was  intended  ?  Or 
who  will  now  have  to  fast  to-night  ?  I  tell  you 
I  know  all  these  things.  Your  house  is  full  of 
soldiers ;  your  servants  were  watched  and  could 
not  leave.  You  had  to  come  yourself  and  get 
food  for  him  ! " 

She  clutched  at  the  hand-rail  of  the  bridge,  and 
for  an  instant  clung  to  it  for  support.  Her  face, 
from  which  the  shawl  had  fallen,  glimmered 
white  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees.  At  last  I  had 
shaken  her  pride.  At  last !  "  What  is  your 
price  ? "  she  murmured  faintly. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you,"  I  replied,  speaking 
so  that  every  word  might  fall  distinctly  on  her 
ears,  and  sating  my  eyes  on  her  proud  face.  I 
had  never  dreamed  of  such  revenge  as  this ! 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  l6l 

"About  a  fortnight  ago,  M.  de  Cocheforet  left 
here  at  night  with  a  little  orange-coloured  sachet 
in  his  possession." 

She  uttered  a  stifled  cry,  and  drew  herself 
stiffly  erect. 

"  It  contained  —  but  there,  Mademoiselle,  you 
know  its  contents,"  I  went  on.  "Whatever  they 
were,  M.  de  Cocheforet  lost  it  and  them  at  start- 
ing. A  week  ago  he  came  back  —  unfortunately 
for  himself  —  to  seek  them." 

She  was  looking  full  in  my  face  now.  She 
seemed  scarcely  to  breathe  in  the  intensity  of  her 
surprise  and  expectation.  "You  had  a  search 
made,  Mademoiselle,"  I  continued  quietly.  "Your 
servants  left  no  place  unexplored.  The  paths, 
the  roads,  the  very  woods  were  ransacked.  But 
in  vain,  because  all  the  while  the  orange  sachet 
lay  whole  and  unopened  in  my  pocket." 

"  No  !  "  she  cried  impetuously.  "  You  lie,  Sir ! 
The  sachet  was  found,  torn  open,  many  leagues 
from  this  place !  " 

"Where  I  threw  it,  Mademoiselle,"  I  replied, 
"that  I  might  mislead  your  rascals  and  be  free 
to  return.  Oh  !  believe  me,"  I  continued,  letting 


1 62  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

something  of  myself,  something  of  my  triumph, 
appear  at  last  in  my  voice.  "  You  have  made 
a  mistake !  You  would  have  done  better  had 
you  trusted  me.  I  am  no  bundle  of  sawdust, 
Mademoiselle,  but  a  man :  a  man  with  an  arm 
to  shield  and  a  brain  to  serve,  and  —  as  I  am 
going  to  teach  you  —  a  heart  also!" 

She  shivered. 

"  In  the  orange-coloured  sachet  that  you  lost  I 
believe  there  were  eighteen  stones  of  great  value?" 

She  made  no  answer,  but  she  looked  at  me 
as  if  I  fascinated  her.  Her  very  breath  seemed 
to  pause  and  wait  on  my  words.  She  was  so 
little  conscious  of  anything  else,  of  anything 
outside  ourselves,  that  a  score  of  men  might 
have  come  up  behind  her  unseen  and  unnoticed. 

I  took  from  my  breast  a  little  packet  wrapped 
in  soft  leather,  and  held  it  towards  her.  "Will 
you  open  this  ?  "  I  said.  "  I  believe  it  contains 
what  you  lost.  That  it  contains  all  I  will  not 
answer,  Mademoiselle,  because  I  spilled  the 
stones  on  the  floor  of  my  room,  and  I  may  have 
failed  to  find  some.  But  the  others  can  be  re- 
covered—  I  know  where  they  are." 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  163 

She  took  the  packet  slowly  and  began  to 
unroll  it,  her  fingers  shaking.  A  few  turns  and 
the  mild  lustre  of  the  stones  made  a  kind  of 
moonlight  in  her  hands  —  such  a  shimmering 
glory  of  imprisoned  light  as  has  ruined  many  a 
woman  and  robbed  many  a  man  of  his  honour. 
Morbleu !  as  I  looked  at  them  —  and  as  she 
stood  looking  at  them  in  dull,  entranced  per- 
plexity —  I  wondered  how  I  had  come  to  resist 
the  temptation. 

While  I  gazed  her  hands  began  to  waver.  "  I 
cannot  count,"  she  muttered  helplessly.  "How 
many  are  there  ?  " 

"In  all,  eighteen." 

"They  should  be  eighteen,"  she  said. 

She  closed  her  hand  on  them  with  that,  and 
opened  it  again,  and  did  so  twice,  as  if  to  re- 
assure herself  that  the  stones  were  real  and  that 
she  was  not  dreaming.  Then  she  turned  to 
me  with  sudden  fierceness,  and  I  saw  that  her 
beautiful  face,  sharpened  by  the  greed  of  pos- 
session, was  grown  as  keen  and  vicious  as  before. 
"Well?"  she  muttered  between  her  teeth.  "Your 
price,  man?  Your  price?" 


164  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  I  am  coming  to  it  now,  Mademoiselle,"  I 
said  gravely.  "  It  is  a  simple  matter.  You  re- 
member the  afternoon  when  I  followed  you  — 
clumsily  and  thoughtlessly  perhaps  —  through 
the  wood  to  restore  these  things  ?  It  seems 
about  a  month  ago.  I  believe  it  happened  the 
day  before  yesterday.  You  called  me  then  some 
very  harsh  names,  which  I  will  not  hurt  you 
by  repeating.  The  only  price  I  ask  for  restor- 
ing your  jewels  is  that  you  recall  those  names." 

"  How  ? "  she  muttered.    "  I  do  not  understand." 

I  repeated  my  words  very  slowly.  "The  only 
price  or  reward  I  ask,  Mademoiselle,  is  that  you 
take  back  those  names,  and  say  that  they  were 
not  deserved." 

"  And  the  jewels  ?  "  she  exclaimed  hoarsely. 

"They  are  yours.  They  are  nothing  to  me. 
Take  them,  and  say  that  you  do  not  think  of 
me —  Nay,  I  cannot  say  the  words,  Made- 
moiselle." 

"But  there  is  something — else!  What  else?" 
she  cried,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  eyes,  bright 
as  any  wild  animal's,  searching  mine.  "Ha!  my 
brother?  What  of  him?  What  of  him,  Sir?" 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  1 65 

"For  him,  Mademoiselle — I  would  prefer  that 
you  should  tell  me  no  more  than  I  know  al- 
ready," I  answered  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  in  that  affair.  But  yes,  there  is  one 
thing  I  have  not  mentioned.  You  are  right." 

She  sighed  so  deeply  that  I  caught  the  sound. 

"  It  is,"  I  continued  slowly,  "  that  you  will 
permit  me  to  remain  at  Cocheforet  for  a  few 
days,  while  the  soldiers  are  here.  I  am  told 
that  there  are  twenty  men  and  two  officers  quar- 
tered in  your  house.  Your  brother  is  away.  I 
ask  to  be  permitted,  Mademoiselle,  to  take  his 
place  for  the  time,  and  to  be  privileged  to  protect 
your  sister  and  yourself  from  insult.  That  is  all." 

She  raised  her  hand  to  her  head.  After  a 
long  pause  :  "  The  frogs !  "  she  muttered,  "  they 
croak!  I  cannot  hear." 

And  then,  to  my  surprise,  she  turned  suddenly 
on  her  heel,  and  walked  over  the  bridge,  leaving 
me  there.  For  a  moment  I  stood  aghast,  peering 
after  her  shadowy  figure,  and  wondering  what  had 
taken  her.  Then,  in  a  minute  or  less,  she  came 
quickly  back  to  me,  and  I  understood.  She  was 
crying. 


1 66  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  M.  de  Barthe,"  she  said,  in  a  trembling  voice, 
which  told  me  that  the  victory  was  won.  "Is  there 
nothing  else  ?  Have  you  no  other  penance  for  me  ? " 

"  None,  Mademoiselle." 

She  had  drawn  the  shawl  over  her  head,  and  I 
no  longer  saw  her  face.  "  That  is  all  you  ask  ? " 
she  murmured. 

"  That  is  all  I  ask  —  now,"  I  answered. 

"  It  is  granted,"  she  said  slowly  and  firmly. 
"Forgive  me  if  I  seem  to  speak  lightly — if  I 
seem  to  make  little  of  your  generosity  or  my 
shame ;  but  I  can  say  no  more  now.  I  am  so 
deep  in  trouble  and  so  gnawed  by  terror  that  —  I 
cannot  feel  anything  much  to-night,  either  shame 
or  gratitude.  I  am  in  a  dream;  God  grant  it 
may  pass  as  a  dream !  We  are  sunk  in  trouble. 
But  for  you  and  what  you  have  done,  M.  de 
Barthe  —  I  — "  she  paused  and  I  heard  her 
fighting  with  the  sobs  which  choked  her  — "  for- 
give me.  ...  I  am  overwrought.  And  my  — 
my  feet  are  cold,"  she  added  suddenly  and  irrele- 
vantly. "  Will  you  take  me  home  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Mademoiselle,"  I  cried  remorsefully,  "  I 
have  been  a  beast !  You  are  barefoot,  and  I 
have  kept  you  here." 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  l6/ 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  said  in  a  voice  which 
thrilled  me.  "My  heart  is  warm,  Monsieur  — 
thanks  to  you.  It  is  many  hours  since  it  has 
been  as  warm." 

She  stepped  out  of  the  shadow  as  she  spoke 
—  and  there,  the  thing  was  done.  As  I  had 
planned,  so  it  had  come  about.  Once  more  I 
was  crossing  the  meadow  in  the  dark  to  be  re- 
ceived at  Cocheforet  a  welcome  guest.  The 
frogs  croaked  in  the  pool  and  a  bat  swooped 
round  us  in  circles ;  and  surely  never  —  never, 
I  thought,  with  a  kind  of  exultation  in  my 
breast  —  had  man  been  placed  in  a  stranger 
position. 

Somewhere  in  the  black  wood  behind  us  — 
probably  in  the  outskirts  of  the  village  —  lurked 
M.  de  Cocheforet.  In  the  great  house  before 
us,  outlined  by  a  score  of  lighted  windows,  were 
the  soldiers  come  from  Auch  to  take  him.  Be- 
tween the  two,  moving  side  by  side  in  the  dark- 
ness, in  a  silence  which  each  found  to  be  eloquent, 
were  Mademoiselle  and  I :  she  who  knew  so  much, 
I  who  knew  all  —  all  but  one  little  thing! 

We   reached  the   house,  and  I  suggested  that 


1 68  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

she  should  steal  in  first  by  the  way  she  had  come 
out,  and  that  I  should  wait  a  little  and  knock  at 
the  door  when  she  had  had  time  to  explain  mat- 
ters to  Clon. 

"  They  do  not  let  me  see  Clon,"  she  answered 
slowly. 

"  Then  your  woman  must  tell  him,"  I  rejoined. 
"  Or  he  may  say  something  and  betray  me." 

"  They  will  not  let  our  woman  come  to  us." 

"  What  ? "  I  cried,  astonished.  "  But  this  is 
infamous.  You  are  not  prisoners !  " 

Mademoiselle  laughed  harshly.  "Are  we  not? 
Well,  I  suppose  not;  for  if  we  wanted  company, 
Captain  Larolle  said  he  would  be  delighted  to 
see  us  —  in  the  parlour." 

"  He  has  taken  your  parlour  ? "  I  said. 

"  He  and  his  lieutenant  sit  there.  But  I  sup- 
pose we  should  be  thankful,"  she  added  bitterly. 
"  We  have  still  our  bed-rooms  left  to  us." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said.  "  Then  I  must  deal  with 
Clon  as  I  can.  But  I  have  still  a  favour  to 
ask,  Mademoiselle.  It  is  only  that  you  and  your 
sister  will  descend  to-morrow  at  your  usual  time. 
I  shall  be  in  the  parlour." 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  169 

"  I  would  rather  not,"  she  said,  pausing  and 
speaking  in  a  troubled  voice. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  No,  Monsieur ;  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  an- 
swered proudly.  "  But  —  " 

"  You  will  come  ?  "  I  said. 

She  sighed  before  she  spoke.  At  length,  "  Yes, 
I  will  come  —  if  you  wish  it,"  she  answered;  and 
the  next  moment  she  was  gone  round  the  corner 
of  the  house,  while  I  laughed  to  think  of  the 
excellent  watch  these  gallant  gentlemen  were 
keeping.  M.  de  Cocheforet  might  have  been 
with  her  in  the  garden,  might  have  talked  with 
her  as  I  had  talked,  might  have  entered  the  house 
even,  and  passed  under  their  noses  scot-free.  But 
that  is  the  way  of  soldiers.  They  are  always 
ready  for  the  enemy,  with  drums  beating  and 
flags  flying  —  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
But  he  does  not  always  come  at  that  hour. 

I  waited  a  little,  and  then  I  groped  my  way  to 
the  door,  and  knocked  on  it  with  the  hilt  of  my 
sword.  The  dogs  began  to  bark  at  the  back,  and 
the  chorus  of  a  drinking-song,  which  came  fitfully 
from  the  east  wing,  ceased  altogether.  An  inner 


I/O  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

door  opened,  and  an  angry  voice,  apparently  an 
officer's,  began  to  rate  some  one  for  not  coming. 
Another  moment,  and  a  clamour  of  voices  and 
footsteps  seemed  to  pour  into  the  hall,  and  fill 
it.  I  heard  the  bar  jerked  away,  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and  in  a  twinkling  a  lanthorn,  behind 
which  a  dozen  flushed  visages  were  dimly  seen, 
was  thrust  into  my  face. 

"  Why,  who  the  fiend  is  this  ? "  cried  one,  glar- 
ing at  me  in  astonishment. 

"  Morbleu  !  It  is  the  man !  "  another  shrieked. 
"  Seize  him !  " 

In  a  moment  half  a  dozen  hands  were  laid  on 
my  shoulders,  but  I  only  bowed  politely.  "  The 
officer,  my  friends,"  I  said,  "  M.  le  Capitaine 
Larolle.  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Diable  !  but  who  are  you,  first  ?  "  the  lanthorn- 
bearer  retorted  bluntly.  He  was  a  tall,  lanky 
sergeant,  with  a  sinister  face. 

"  Well,  I  am  not  M.  de  Cocheforet,"  I  replied ; 
"  and  that  must  satisfy  you,  my  man.  For  the 
rest,  if  you  do  not  fetch  Captain  Larolle  at  once 
and  admit  me,  you  will  find  the  consequences 
inconvenient." 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  Ijl 

"Ho!  ho!"  he  said,  with  a  sneer.  "You  can 
crow,  it  seems.  Well,  come  in." 

They  made  way,  and  I  walked  into  the  hall, 
keeping  my  hat  on.  On  the  great  hearth  a  fire 
had  been  kindled,  but  it  had  gone  out.  Three 
or  four  carbines  stood  against  one  wall,  and  beside 
them  lay  a  heap  of  haversacks  and  some  straw. 
A  shattered  stool,  broken  in  a  frolic,  and  half 
a  dozen  empty  wine-skins  strewed  the  floor,  and 
helped  to  give  the  place  an  air  of  untidiness  and 
disorder.  I  looked  round  with  eyes  of  disgust, 
and  my  gorge  rose.  They  had  spilled  oil,  and 
the  place  reeked  foully. 

"  Ventre  bleu ! "  I  said.  "  Is  this  conduct  in 
a  gentleman's  house,  you  rascals  ?  Ma  vie !  If 
I  had  you,  I  would  send  half  of  you  to  the 
wooden  horse ! " 

They  gazed  at  me  open-mouthed.  My  arro- 
gance startled  them.  The  sergeant  alone  scowled. 
When  he  could  find  his  voice  for  rage  — 

"  This  way ! "  he  said.  "  We  did  not  know 
a  general  officer  was  coming,  or  we  would  have 
been  better  prepared !  "  And  muttering  oaths 
under  his  breath,  he  led  me  down  the  well-known 


1/2  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

passage.  At  the  door  of  the  parlour  he  stopped. 
"  Introduce  yourself !  "  he  said  rudely.  "  And  if 
you  find  the  air  warm,  don't  blame  me ! " 

I  raised  the  latch  and  went  in.  At  a  table  in 
front  of  the  hearth,  half  covered  with  glasses  and 
bottles,  sat  two  men  playing  hazard.  The  dice 
rang  sharply  as  I  entered,  and  he  who  had  just 
thrown  kept  the  box  over  them  while  he  turned, 
scowling,  to  see  who  came  in.  He  was  a  fair- 
haired,  blonde  man,  large-framed  and  florid.  He 
had  put  off  his  cuirass  and  boots,  and  his  doublet 
showed  frayed  and  stained  where  the  armour  had 
pressed  on  it.  But  otherwise  he  was  in  the 
extreme  of  last  year's  fashion.  His  deep  cravat, 
folded  over  so  that  the  laced  ends  drooped  a  little 
in  front,  was  of  the  finest ;  his  great  sash  of  blue 
and  silver  was  a  foot  wide.  He  had  a  little  jewel 
in  one  ear,  and  his  tiny  beard  was  peaked  d  FEs- 
pagnole.  Probably  when  he  turned  he  expected 
to  see  the  sergeant,  for  at  sight  of  me  he  rose 
slowly,  leaving  the  dice  still  covered. 

"  What  folly  is  this  ? "  he  cried  wrathfully. 
"Here,  Sergeant!  Sergeant! — without  there! 
What  the  —  !  Who  are  you,  Sir  ? " 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  1/3 

"  Captain  Larolle,"  I  said,  uncovering  politely, 
"I  believe?" 

"Yes,  I  am  Captain  Larolle,"  he  retorted. 
"  But  who,  in  the  fiend's  name,  are  you  ?  You 
are  not  the  man  we  are  after ! " 

"  I  am  not  M.  Cocheforet,"  I  said  coolly.  "  I 
am  merely  a  guest  in  the  house,  M.  le  Capitaine. 
I  have  been  enjoying  Madame  de  Cocheforet's 
hospitality  for  some  time,  but  by  an  evil  chance 
I  was  away  when  you  arrived."  And  with  that 
I  walked  to  the  hearth,  and,  gently  pushing  aside 
his  great  boots  which  stood  there  drying,  kicked 
the  logs  into  a  blaze. 

"  Mille  diables!"  he  whispered.  And  never 
did  I  see  a  man  more  confounded.  But  I  affected 
to  be  taken  up  with  his  companion,  a  sturdy, 
white-mustachioed  old  veteran,  who  sat  back  in 
his  chair,  eyeing  me,  with  swollen  cheeks  and 
eyes  surcharged  with  surprise. 

"  Good  evening,  M.  le  Lieutenant,"  I  said,  bow- 
ing gravely.  "  It  is  a  fine  night." 

Then  the  storm  burst. 

"  Fine  night ! "  the  captain  shrieked,  finding 
his  voice  again.  "  Mille  diables  !  Are  you  aware, 


174  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

Sir,  that  I  am  in  possession  of  this  house,  and 
that  no  one  harbours  here  without  my  permis- 
sion ?  Guest!  Hospitality!  Lieutenant — call  the 
guard !  Call  the  guard !  "  he  continued  passion- 
ately. "  Where  is  that  ape  of  a  sergeant  ? " 

The  lieutenant  rose  to  obey,  but  I  lifted  my  hand. 

"  Gently,  gently,  Captain,"  I  said.  "  Not  so 
fast !  You  seem  surprised  to  see  me  here.  Be- 
lieve me,  I  am  much  more  surprised  to  see  you." 

"  Sacr/f"  he  cried,  recoiling  at  this  fresh  imper- 
tinence, whi-le  the  lieutenant's  eyes  almost  jumped 
out  of  his  head. 

But  nothing  moved  me. 

"  Is  the  door  closed  ? "  I  said  sweetly.  "  Thank 
you;  it  is,  I  see.  Then  permit  me  to  say  again, 
gentlemen,  that  I  am  much  more  surprised  to  see 
you  than  you  can  be  to  see  me.  When  Mon- 
seigneur  the  Cardinal  honoured  me  by  sending 
me  from  Paris  to  conduct  this  matter,  he  gave 
me  the  fullest  —  the  fullest  powers,  M.  le  Capi- 
taine  —  to  see  the  affair  to  an  end.  I  was  not 
led  to  expect  that  my  plans  would  be  spoiled  on 
the  eve  of  success  by  the  intrusion  of  half  the 
garrison  from  Auch !  " 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  I?$ 

"  O  ho !  "  the  captain  said  softly  —  in  a  very 
different  tone  and  with  a  very  different  face.  "  So 
you  are  the  gentleman  I  heard  of  at  Auch?" 

"  Very  likely,"  I  said  drily.  "  But  I  am  from 
Paris,  not  Auch." 

"  To  be  sure,"  he  answered  thoughtfully.  "  Eh, 
Lieutenant?" 

"Yes,  M.  le  Capitaine,  no  doubt,"  the  inferior 
replied.  And  they  both  looked  at  one  another, 
and  then  at  me,  in  a  way  I  did  not  understand. 

"I  think,"  said  I,  to  clinch  the  matter,  "that 
you  have  made  a  mistake,  Captain ;  or  the  Com- 
mandant has.  And  it  occurs  to  me  that  the 
Cardinal  will  not  be  best  pleased." 

"I  hold  the  King's  commission,"  he  answered 
rather  stiffly. 

"To  be  sure,"  I  replied.  "But  you  see  the 
Cardinal  —  " 

"Ah,  but  the  Cardinal — "  he  rejoined  quickly; 
and  then  he  stopped  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
And  they  both  looked  at  me. 

"Well?"  I  said. 

"The  King,"  he  answered  slowly. 

"  Tut-tut ! "    I    exclaimed,    spreading    out    my 


1/6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

hands.  "The  Cardinal.  Let  us  stick  to  him. 
You  were  saying  ? " 

"Well,  the  Cardinal,  you  see  — "  And  then 
again,  after  the  same  words,  he  stopped — stopped 
abruptly  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

I  •  began  to  suspect  something.  "  If  you  have 
anything  to  say  against  Monseigneur,"  I  answered, 
watching  him  narrowly,  "  say  it.  But  take  a  word 
of  advice.  Don't  let  it  go  beyond  the  door  of 
this  room,  my  friend,  and  it  will  do  you  no 
harm." 

"  Neither  here  nor  outside,"  he  retorted,  look- 
ing for  a  moment  at  his  comrade.  "  Only  I  hold 
the  King's  commission.  That  is  all.  And  I 
think  enough.  For  the  rest,  will  you  throw  a 
main  ?  Good  !  Lieutenant,  find  a  glass,  and  the 
gentleman  a  seat.  And  here,  for  my  part,  I  will 
give  you  a  toast.  The  Cardinal  —  whatever  be- 
tide ! " 

I  drank  it,  and  sat  down  to  play  with  him; 
I  had  not  heard  the  music  of  the  dice  for  a 
month,  and  the  temptation  was  irresistible.  But 
I  was  not  satisfied.  I  called  the  mains  and 
won  his  crowns,  —  he  was  a  mere  baby  at  the 


A  MASTER  STROKE.  177 

game,  —  but  half  my  mind  was  elsewhere.  There 
was  something  here  I  did  not  understand;  some 
influence  at  work  on  which  I  had  not  counted; 
something  moving  under  the  surface  as  unintel- 
ligible to  me  as  the  soldiers'  presence.  Had  the 
captain  repudiated  my  commission  altogether,  and 
put  me  to  the  door  or  sent  me  to  the  guard-house, 
I  could  have  followed  that.  But  these  dubious 
hints,  this  passive  resistance,  puzzled  me.  Had 
they  news  from  Paris,  I  wondered.  Was  the 
King  dead  ?  or  the  Cardinal  ill  ?  I  asked  them. 
But  they  said  no,  no,  no  to  all,  and  gave  me 
guarded  answers.  And  midnight  found  us  still 
playing ;  and  still  fencing. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE    QUESTION. 

"  SWEEP  the  room,  Monsieur  ?  And  remove 
this  medley  ?  But,  M.  le  Capitaine  —  " 

"The  captain  is  at  the  village,"  I  replied 
sternly.  "  And  do  you  move !  move,  man,  and 
the  thing  will  be  done  while  you  are  talking  about 
it.  Set  the  door  into  the  garden  open  —  so  !  " 

"  Certainly,  it  is  a  fine  morning.  And  the 
tobacco  of  M.  le  Lieutenant —  But  M.  le  Capi- 
taine did  not —  " 

"  Give  orders  ?  Well,  I  give  them ! "  I  an- 
swered. "  First  of  all,  remove  these  beds.  And 
bustle,  man,  bustle,  or  I  will  find  something  to 
quicken  you." 

In  a  moment —  "And  M.  le  Capitaine's  riding- 
boots  ? " 

"  Place  them  in  the  passage,"  I  replied. 
178 


THE  QUESTION. 


"  Oht!  In  the  passage  ?  "  He  paused,  look- 
ing at  them  in  doubt. 

"Yes,  booby;   in  the  passage." 

"And  the  cloaks,  Monsieur?" 

"There  is  a  bush  handy  outside  the  window. 
Let  them  air." 

"  O/i/,  the  bush  ?  Well,  to  be  sure  they  are 
damp.  But  —  yes,  yes,  Monsieur,  it  is  done. 
And  the  holsters  ?  " 

"There  also!"  I  said  harshly.  "Throw  them 
out.  Faugh  !  The  place  reeks  of  leather.  Now, 
a  clean  hearth.  And  set  the  table  before  the  open 
door,  so  that  we  may  see  the  garden.  So.  And 
tell  the  cook  that  we  shall  dine  at  eleven,  and 
that  Madame  and  Mademoiselle  will  descend." 

"O/i/f  But  M.  le  Capitaine  ordered  the  dinner 
for  half  past  eleven  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  advanced,  then  ;  and,  mark  you, 
my  friend,  if  it  is  not  ready  when  Madame  comes 
down,  you  will  suffer,  and  the  cook  too." 

When  he  was  gone  on  his  errand,  I  looked 
round.  What  else  was  lacking  ?  The  sun  shone 
cheerily  on  the  polished  floor  ;  the  air,  freshened 
by  the  rain  which  had  fallen  in  the  night,  entered 

N  2 


180  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

freely  through  the  open  doorway.  A  few  bees 
lingering  with  the  summer  hummed  outside.  The 
fire  crackled  bravely;  an  old  hound,  blind  and 
past  work,  lay  warming  its  hide  on  the  hearth. 
I  could  think  of  nothing  more,  and  I  stood  and 
watched  the  man  set  out  the  table  and  spread 
the  cloth.  "  For  how  many,  Monsieur  ? "  he 
asked,  in  a  scared  tone. 

"For  five,"  I  answered;  and  I  could  not  help 
smiling  at  myself.  What  would  Zaton's  say  could 
it  see  Berault  turned  housewife  ?  There  was  a 
white  glazed  cup  —  an  old-fashioned  piece  of  the 
second  Henry's  time  —  standing  on  a  shelf.  I 
took  it  down  and  put  some  late  flowers  in  it,  and 
set  it  in  the  middle  of  the  table,  and  stood  off 
myself  to  look  at  it.  But  a  moment  later,  think- 
ing I  heard  them  coming,  I  hurried  it  away  in  a 
kind  of  panic,  feeling  on  a  sudden  ashamed  of 
the  thing.  The  alarm  proved  to  be  false,  how- 
ever; and  then  again,  taking  another  turn,  I  set 
the  piece  back.  I  had  done  nothing  so  foolish 
for  —  for  more  years  than  I  liked  to  count. 

But  when  Madame  and  Mademoiselle  came, 
they  had  eyes  neither  for  the  flowers  nor  the 


THE  QUESTION.  l8l 

room.  They  had  heard  that  the  captain  was  out 
beating  the  village  and  the  woods  for  the  fugitive, 
and  where  I  had  looked  for  a  comedy  I  found 
a  tragedy.  Madame's  face  was  so  red  with  weep- 
ing that  all  her  beauty  was  gone.  She  started 
and  shook  at  the  slightest  sound,  and,  unable 
to  find  any  words  to  answer  my  greeting,  could 
only  sink  into  a  chair  and  sit  crying  silently. 

Mademoiselle  was  in  a  mood  scarcely  more 
cheerful.  She  did  not  weep,  but  her  manner 
was  hard  and  fierce.  She  spoke  absently  and 
answered  fretfully.  Her  eyes  glittered,  and  she 
had  the  air  of  straining  her  ears  continually  to 
catch  some  dreaded  sound.  "  There  is  no  news, 
Monsieur  ? "  she  said,  as  she  took  her  seat.  And 
she  shot  a  swift  look  at  me. 

"  None,  Mademoiselle." 

"  They  are  searching  the  village  ? " 

"  I  believe  so." 

"  Where  is  Clon  ? "  This  in  a  lower  voice, 
and  with  a  kind  of  shrinking  in  her  face. 

I  shook  my  head.  "  I  believe  they  have  him 
confined  somewhere.  And  Louis,  too,"  I  said. 
"  But  I  have  not  seen  either  of  them." 


1 82  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  And  where  are  —  ?  I  thought  these  people 
would  be  here,"  she  muttered.  And  she  glanced 
askance  at  the  two  vacant  places.  The  servant 
had  brought  in  the  meal. 

"  They  will  be  here  presently,"  I  said  coolly. 
"Let  us  make  the  most  of  the  time.  A  little 
wine  and  food  will  do  Madame  good." 

She  smiled  rather  sadly.  "  I  think  we  have 
changed  places,"  she  said ;  "  and  that  you  have 
turned  host,  and  we  guests." 

"  Let  it  be  so,"  I  said  cheerfully.  "  I  recom- 
mend some  of  this  ragout.  Come,  Mademoiselle ; 
fasting  can  aid  no  one.  A  full  meal  has  saved 
many  a  man's  life." 

It  was  clumsily  said  perhaps,  for  she  shud- 
dered and  looked  at  me  with  a  ghastly  smile. 
But  she  persuaded  her  sister  to  taste  something ; 
and  she  took  something  on  her  own  plate  and 
raised  her  fork  to  her  lips.  But  in  a  moment 
she  laid  it  down  again.  "  I  cannot,"  she  mur- 
mured. "  I  cannot  swallow.  Oh,  my  God,  at 
this  moment  they  may  be  taking  him  ! " 

I  thought  that  she  was  about  to  burst  into 
a  passion  of  tears,  and  I  repented  that  I  had 


THE  QUESTION.  183 

induced  her  to  descend.  But  her  self-control 
was  not  yet  exhausted.  By  an  effort  painful 
to  see,  she  recovered  her  composure.  She  took 
up  her  fork,  and  ate  a  few  mouthfuls.  Then 
she  looked  at  me  with  a  fierce  under-look.  "  I 
want  to  see  Clon,"  she  whispered  feverishly. 
The  man  who  waited  on  us  had  left  the  room. 

"  He  knows  ?  "  I  said. 

She  nodded,  her  beautiful  face  strangely  dis- 
figured. Her  closed  teeth  showed  between  her 
lips.  Two  red  spots  burned  in  her  white  cheeks, 
and  she  breathed  quickly.  I  felt,  as  I  looked 
at  her,  a  sudden  pain  at  my  heart;  and  a  shud- 
dering fear,  such  as  a  man  awaking  to  find  him- 
self falling  over  a  precipice,  might  feel.  How 
these  women  loved  the  man ! 

For  a  moment  I  could  not  speak.  When  I 
found  my  voice  it  sounded  dry  and  husky.  "He 
is  a  safe  confidant,"  I  muttered.  "  He  can 
neither  speak  nor  write,  Mademoiselle." 

"No,  but — "  and  then  her  face  became  fixed. 
"  They  are  coming,"  she  whispered.  "  Hush !  " 
She  rose  stiffly,  and  stood  supporting  herself  by 
the  table.  "  Have  they  —  have  they  —  found 


1 84  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

him  ? "  she  muttered.  The  woman  by  her  side 
wept  on,  unconscious  what  was  impending. 

I  heard  the  captain  stumble  far  down  the 
passage,  and  swear  loudly;  and  I  touched 
Mademoiselle's  hand.  "  They  have  not ! "  I 
whispered.  "All  is  well,  Mademoiselle.  Pray, 
pray  calm  yourself.  Sit  down,  and  meet  them 
as  if  nothing  were  the  matter.  And  your  sister ! 
Madame,  Madame,"  I  cried,  almost  harshly, 
"  compose  yourself.  Remember  that  you  have 
a  part  to  play." 

My  appeal  did  something.  Madame  stifled 
her  sobs.  Mademoiselle  drew  a  deep  breath 
and  sat  down ;  and  though  she  was  still  pale 
and  still  trembled,  the  worst  was  past. 

And  just  in  time.  The  door  flew  open  with 
a  crash.  The  captain  stumbled  into  the  room, 
swearing  afresh.  "  Sacr/  nom  du  Diable ! "  he 
cried,  his  face  crimson  with  rage.  "  What  fool 
placed  these  things  here?  My  boots?  My  — 

His  jaw  fell.  He  stopped  on  the  word, 
stricken  silent  by  the  new  aspect  of  the  room, 
by  the  sight  of  the  little  party  at  the  table, 
by  all  the  changes  I  had  worked.  "  Saint 


THE  QUESTION.  185 

Siege!"  he  muttered.  "What  is  this?"  The 
lieutenant's  grizzled  face  peering  over  his  shoul- 
der completed  the  picture. 

"You  are  rather  late,  M.  le  Capitaine,"  I  said 
cheerfully.  "  Madame's  hour  is  eleven.  But 
come,  here  are  your  seats  waiting  for  you." 

"  Mille  tonnerres!"  he  muttered,  advancing 
into  the  room,  and  glaring  at  us. 

"I  am  afraid  the  ragout  is  cold,"  I  continued, 
peering  into  the  dish  and  affecting  to  see  noth- 
ing. "The  soup,  however,  has  been  kept  hot  by 
the  fire.  But  I  think  you  do  not  see  Madame." 

He  opened  his  mouth  to  swear,  but  for  the 
moment  thought  better  of  it.  "Who — who  put 
my  boots  in  the  passage  ? "  he  asked,  his  voice 
thick  with  rage.  He  did  not  bow  to  the  ladies, 
or  take  any  notice  of  their  presence. 

"  One  of  the  men,  I  suppose,"  I  said  indiffer- 
ently. "Is  anything  missing?" 

He  glared  at  me.  Then  his  cloak,  spread 
outside,  caught  his  eye  He  strode  through  the 
door,  saw  his  holsters  lying  on  the  grass,  and 
other  things  strewn  about.  He  came  back. 
"Whose  monkey  game  is  this?"  he  snarled,  and 


1 86  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

his  face  was  very  ugly.  "  Who  is  at  the  bottom 
of  this?  Speak,  Sir,  or  I — " 

"  Tut-tut !  the  ladies !  "  I  said.  "  You  forget 
yourself,  Monsieur." 

"  Forget  myself  ? "  he  hissed,  and  this  time 
he  did  not  check  his  oath.  "  Don't  talk  to  me 
of  the  ladies!  Madame?  Bah!  Do  you  think, 
fool,  that  we  are  put  into  rebels'  houses  to  bow 
and  smile  and  take  dancing  lessons  ? " 

"  In  this  case  a  lesson  in  politeness  were  more 
to  the  point,  Monsieur,"  I  said  sternly.  And  I 
rose. 

"  Was  it  by  your  orders  that  this  was  done  ? " 
he  retorted,  his  brow  black  with  passion.  "An- 
swer, will  you  ? " 

"  It  was !  "  I  replied  outright. 

"  Then  take  that ! "  he  cried,  dashing  his  hat 
violently  in  my  face.  "And  come  outside." 

"With  pleasure,  Monsieur,"  I  answered,  bow- 
ing. "  In  one  moment.  Permit  me  to  find  my 
sword.  I  think  it  is  in  the  passage." 

I  went  thither  to  get  it.  When  I  returned  I 
found  that  the  two  men  were  waiting  for  me  in 
the  garden,  while  the  ladies  had  risen  from  the. 


THE  QUESTION.  1 87 

table  and  were  standing  near  it  with  blanched 
faces.  "  You  had  better  take  your  sister  upstairs, 
Mademoiselle,"  I  said  gently,  pausing  a  moment 
beside  them.  "  Have  no  fear.  All  will  be  well." 

"  But  what  is  it  ? "  she  answered,  looking 
troubled.  "  It  was  so  sudden.  I  am  —  I  did  not 
understand.  You  quarrelled  so  quickly." 

"  It  is  very  simple,"  I  answered,  smiling. 
"  M.  le  Capitaine  insulted  you  yesterday ;  he  will 
pay  for  it  to-day.  That  is  all.  Or,  not  quite  all," 
I  continued,  dropping  my  voice  and  speaking  in 
a  different  tone.  "  His  removal  may  help  you, 
Mademoiselle.  Do  you  understand?  I  think 
that  there  will  be  no  more  searching  to-day." 

She  uttered  an  exclamation,  grasping  my  arm 
and  peering  into  my  face.  "  You  will  kill  him  ? " 
she  muttered. 

I  nodded.     "  Why  not  ? "  I  said. 

She  caught  her  breath  and  stood  with  one  hand 
clasped  to  her  bosom,  gazing  at  me  with  parted 
lips,  the  blood  mounting  to  her  cheeks.  Gradually 
the  flush  melted  into  a  fierce  smile.  "Yes,  yes, 
why  not  ? "  she  repeated,  between  her  teeth. 
"Why  not?"  She  had  her  hand  on  my  arm, 


1 88'  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

and  I  felt  her  fingers  tighten  until  I  could  have 
winced.  "  Why  not  ?  So  you  planned  this  —  for 
us,  Monsieur?" 

I  nodded. 

"But  can  you?" 

"  Safely,"  I  said ;  then,  muttering  to  her  to  take 
her  sister  upstairs,  I  turned  towards  the  garden. 
My  foot  was  already  on  the  threshold,  and  I  was 
composing  my  face  to  meet  the  enemy,  when  I 
heard  a  movement  behind  me.  The  next  mo- 
ment her  hand  was  on  my  arm.  "Wait!  Wait 
a  moment !  Come  back !  "  she  panted.  I  turned. 
The  smile  and  flush  had  vanished ;  her  face  was 
pale.  "  No  !  "  she  said  abruptly.  "  I  was  wrong ! 
I  will  not  have  it.  I  will  have  no  part  in  it! 
You  planned  it  last  night,  M.  de  Barthe.  It  is 
murder." 

"  Mademoiselle  !  "  I  exclaimed,  wondering. 
"Murder?  Why?  It  is  a  duel." 

"  It  is  murder,"  she  answered  persistently. 
"You  planned  it  last  night.  You  said  so." 

"  But  I  risk  my  own  life,"  I  replied  sharply. 

"  Nevertheless  —  I  will  have  no  part  in  it," 
she  answered  more  faintly.  "  It  will  bring  no 


THE  QUESTION.  189 

good."  She  was  trembling  with  agitation.  Her 
eyes  avoided  mine. 

"  On  my  shoulders  be  it  then ! "  I  replied 
stoutly.  "It  is  too  late,  Mademoiselle,  to  go 
back.  They  are  waiting  for  me.  Only,  before 
I  go,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  retire." 

And  I  turned  from  her,  and  went  out,  won- 
dering and  thinking.  First,  that  women  were 
strange  things.  Secondly  —  murder?  Merely 
because  I  had  planned  the  duel  and  provoked 
the  quarrel!  Never  had  I  heard  anything  so 
preposterous.  Grant  it,  and  dub  every  man  who 
kept  his  honour  with  his  hands  a  Cain  —  and  a 
good  many  branded  faces  would  be  seen  in  some 
streets.  I  laughed  at  the  fancy,  as  I  strode  down 
the  garden  walk. 

And  yet,  perhaps,  I  was  going  to  do  a  foolish 
thing.  The  lieutenant  would  still  be  here  :  a*  hard, 
bitter  man,  of  stiffer  stuff  than  his  captain.  And 
the  troopers.  What  if,  when  I  had  killed  their 
leader,  they  made  the  place  too  hot  for  me,  Mon- 
seigneur's  commission  notwithstanding  ?  I  should 
look  silly,  indeed,  if  on  the  eve  of  success  I  were 
driven  from  the  place  by  a  parcel  of  jack-boots. 


190  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

I  liked  the  thought  so  little  that  I  hesitated. 
Yet  it  seemed  too  late  to  retreat.  The  captain 
and  the  lieutenant  were  waiting  in  a  little  open 
space  fifty  yards  from  the  house,  where  a  nar- 
rower path  crossed -the  broad  walk,  down  which 
I  had  first  seen  Mademoiselle  and  her  sister  pac- 
ing. The  captain  had  removed  his  doublet,  and 
stood  in  his  shirt  leaning  against  the  sundial,  his 
head  bare  and  his  sinewy  throat  uncovered.  He 
had  drawn  his  rapier  and  stood  pricking  the 
ground  impatiently.  I  marked  his  strong  and 
nervous  frame  and  his  sanguine  air :  and  twenty 
years  earlier  the  sight  might  have  damped  me. 
But  no  thought  of  the  kind  entered  my  head  now, 
and  though  I  felt  with  each  moment  greater 
reluctance  to  engage,  doubt  of  the  issue  had  no 
place  in  my  calculations. 

I  made  ready  slowly,  and  would  gladly,  to  gain 
time,  have  found  some  fault  with  the  place.  But 
the  sun  was  sufficiently  high  to  give  no  advantage 
to  either.  The  ground  was  good,  the  spot  well 
chosen.  I  could  find  no  excuse  to  put  off  the 
man,  and  I  was  about  to  salute  him  and  fall  to 
work,  when  a  thought  crossed  my  mind. 


THE  QUESTION.  IQI 

"  One  moment !  "  I  said.  "  Supposing  I  kill 
you,  M.  le  Capitaine,  what  becomes  of  your 
errand  here?" 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  he  answered,  with  a 
sneer — he  had  misread  my  slowness  and  hesita- 
tion. "  It  will  not  happen,  Monsieur.  And  in 
any  case  the  thought  need  not  harass  you.  I 
have  a  lieutenant." 

"  Yes,  but  what  of  my  mission  ? "  I  replied 
bluntly.  "  I  have  no  lieutenant." 

"You  should  have  thought  of  that  before  you 
interfered  with  my  boots,"  he  retorted,  with  con- 
tempt. 

"  True,"  I  said,  overlooking  his  manner.  "  But 
better  late  than  never.  I  am  not  sure,  now  I 
think  of  it,  that  my  duty  to  Monseigneur  will  let 
me  fight." 

"  You  will  swallow  the  blow  ? "  he  cried,  spit- 
ting on  the  ground  offensively.  "  Diable  !  "  And 
the  lieutenant,  standing  on  one  side  with  his  hands 
behind  him  and  his  shoulders  squared,  laughed 
grimly. 

"  I  have  not  made  up  my  mind,"  I  answered 
irresolutely. 


1 92  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  Well,  nom  de  Dieu  !  make  it  up,"  the  captain 
replied,  with  an  ugly  sneer.  He  took  a  swagger- 
ing step  this  way  and  that,  playing  his  weapon. 
"  I  am  afraid,  Lieutenant,  there  will  be  no  sport 
to-day,"  he  continued,  in  a  loud  aside.  "  Our  cock 
has  but  a  chicken  heart." 

"  Well !  "  I  said  coolly,  "  I  do  not  know  what  to 
do.  Certainly  it  is  a  fine  day,  and  a  fair  piece  of 
ground.  And  the  sun  stands  well.  But  I  have 
not  much  to  gain  by  killing  you,  M.  le  Capitaine, 
and  it  might  get  me  into  an  awkward  fix.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  would  not  hurt  me  to  let  you 

go." 

"  Indeed  ? "  he  said  contemptuously,  looking  at 
me  as  I  should  look  at  a  lacquey. 

"  No  !  "  I  replied.  "  For  if  you  were  to  say 
that  you  had  struck  Gil  de  Berault,  and  left  the 
ground  with  a  whole  skin,  no  one  would  believe 
you." 

"  Gil  de  Berault !  "   he  exclaimed,  frowning. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  I  replied  suavely.  "  At  your 
service.  You  did  not  know  my  name?" 

"  I  thought  your  name  was  De  Barthe,"  he 
said.  His  voice  sounded  queerly  ;  and  he  waited 


THE  QUESTION.  193 

for  the  answer  with  parted  lips,  and  a  shadow  in 
his  eyes  which  I  had  seen  in  men's  eyes  before. 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  That  was  my  mother's  name. 
I  took  it  for  this  occasion  only." 

His  florid  cheek  lost  a  shade  of  its  colour,  and 
he  bit  his  lips  as  he  glanced  at  the  lieutenant, 
trouble  in  his  eyes.  I  had  seen  these  signs  before, 
and  knew  them,  and  I  might  have  cried  "  Chicken- 
heart  !  "  in  my  turn ;  but  I  had  not  made  a  way 
of  escape  for  him  —  before  I  declared  myself  — 
for  nothing,  and  I  held  to  my  purpose.  "  I  think 
you  will  allow  now,"  I  said  grimly,  "that  it  will 
not  harm  me  even  if  I  put  up  with  a  blow !  " 

"  M.  de  Berault's  courage  is  known,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

"And  with  reason,"  I  said.  "That  being  so, 
suppose  we  say  this  day  three  months,  M.  le  Capi- 
taine  ?  The  postponement  to  be  for  my  conven- 
ience." 

He  caught  the  lieutenant's  eye,  and  looked 
down  sullenly,  the  conflict  in  his  mind  as  plain  as 
daylight.  He  had  only  to  insist,  and  I  must  fight ; 
and  if  by  luck  or  skill  he  could  master  me,  his 
fame  as  a  duellist  would  run,  like  a  ripple  over 


194  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

water,  through  every  garrison  town  in  France  and 
make  him  a  name  even  in  Paris.  On  the  other 
side  were  the  imminent  peril  of  death,  the  gleam 
of  cold  steel  already  in  fancy  at  his  breast,  the 
loss  of  life  and  sunshine,  and  the  possibility  of  a 
retreat  with  honour,  if  without  glory.  I  read  his 
face,  and  knew  before  he  spoke  what  he  would 
do. 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  the  burden  is  with 
you,"  he  said  huskily ;  "  but  for  my  part,  I  am 
satisfied." 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  "I  take  the  burden.  Per- 
mit me  to  apologize  for  having  caused  you  to  strip 
unnecessarily.  Fortunately  the  sun  is  shining." 

"  Yes,"  he  said  gloomily.  And  he  took  his 
clothes  from  the  sundial,  and  began  to  put  them 
on.  He  had  expressed  himself  satisfied ;  but  I 
knew  that  he  was  feeling  very  ill-satisfied  with 
himself,  and  I  was  not  surprised  when  he  pres- 
ently said  abruptly  and  almost  rudely,  "  There  is 
one  thing  I  think  we  must  settle  here." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "    I  asked. 

"  Our  positions,"  he  blurted  out  "  Or  we  shall 
cross  one  another  again  within  the  hour." 


THE  QUESTION.  195 

"  Umph !  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  under- 
stand," I  said. 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  don't  do  —  under- 
stand !  "  he  retorted,  in  a  tone  of  surly  triumph. 
"  Before  I  came  on  this  duty,  I  was  told  that 
there  was  a  gentleman  here,  bearing  sealed  orders 
from  the  Cardinal  to  arrest  M.  de  Cocheforet; 
and  I  was  instructed  to  avoid  collision  with  him 
so  far  as  might  be  possible.  At  first  I  took 
you  for  the  gentleman.  But  the  plague  take 
me  if  I  understand  the  matter  now." 

"Why  not?"    I  said  coldly. 

"  Because  —  well,  the  matter  is  in  a  nutshell !  " 
he  answered  impetuously.  "  Are  you  here  on 
behalf  of  Madame  de  Cocheforet  to  shield  her 
husband  ?  Or  are  you  here  to  arrest  him  ?  That 
is  what  I  don't  understand,  M.  de  Berault." 

"  If  you  mean,  am  I  the  Cardinal's  agent  — 
I  am ! "  I  answered  sternly. 

"To  arrest  M.  de  Cocheforet?" 

"To  arrest  M.  de  Cocheforet." 

"  Well  —  you  surprise  me,"  he  said. 

Only  that;  but  he  spoke  so  drily  that  I  felt 
the  blood  rush  to  my  face.  "Take  care,  Mon- 
et 2 


196  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

sieur,"  I  said  severely.  "  Do  not  presume  too 
far  on  the  inconvenience  to  which  your  death 
might  put  me." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  No  offence  !  " 
he  said.  "  But  you  do  not  seem,  M.  de  Berault, 
to  comprehend  the  difficulty.  If  we  do  not  set- 
tle things  now,  we  shall  be  bickering  twenty 
times  a  day !  " 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  ? "  I  asked  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Simply  to  know  how  you  are  going  to  pro- 
ceed. So  that  our  plans  may  not  clash." 

"  But  surely,  M.  le  Capitaine,  that  is  my 
affair !  "  I  replied. 

"  The  clashing  ?  "  he  answered  bitterly.  Then 
he  waved  aside  my  wrath.  "Pardon,"  he  said, 
"  the  point  is  simply  this :  How  do  you  propose 
to  find  him  if  he  is  here  ? " 

"That  again  is  my  affair,"  I  answered. 

He  threw  up  his  hands  in  despair;  but  in  a 
moment  his  place  was  taken  by  an  unexpected 
disputant.  The  lieutenant,  who  had  stood  by 
all  the  time,  listening  and  tugging  at  his  grey 
moustache,  suddenly  spoke.  "  Look  here,  M. 


THE  QUESTION. 


de  Berault,"  he  said,  confronting  me  roughly, 
"  I  do  not  fight  duels.  I  am  from  the  ranks.  I 
proved  my  courage  at  Montauban  in  '21,  and 
my  honour  is  good  enough  to  take  care  of  itself. 
So  I  say  what  I  like,  and  I  ask  you  plainly 
what  M.  le  Capitaine  doubtless  has  in  his  mind 
but  does  not  ask  :  Are  you  running  with  the 
hare  and  hunting  with  the  hounds  in  this  mat- 
ter? In  other  words,  have  you  thrown  up  Mon- 
seigneur's  commission  in  all  but  name  and  become 
Madame'  s  ally  ;  or  —  it  is  the  only  other  alter- 
native —  are  you  getting  at  the  man  through  the 
women  ?  " 

"  You  villain  !  "  I  cried,  glaring  at  him  in  such 
a  rage  and  fury  I  could  scarcely  get  the  words 
out.  This  was  plain  speaking  with  a  vengeance  ! 
"  How  dare  you  !  How  dare  you  say  that  I  am 
false  to  the  hand  that  pays  me  ?  " 

I  thought  he  would  blench,  but  he  did  not. 
He  stood  up  stiff  as  a  poker.  "  I  do  not  say  ; 
I  ask  !  "  he  replied,  facing  me  squarely,  and 
slapping  his  fist  into  his  open  hand  to  drive 
home  his  words  the  better.  "  I  ask  you  whether 
you  are  playing  the  traitor  to  the  Cardinal  ? 


198  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

Or  to  these  two  women  ?  It  is  a  simple  ques- 
tion." 

I  fairly  choked.  "  You  impudent  scoundrel," 
I  said. 

"  Steady,  steady  !  "  he  replied.  "  Pitch  sticks 
where  it  belongs.  But  that  is  enough.  I  see 
which  it  is,  M.  le  Capitaine;  this  way  a  moment, 
by  your  leave." 

And  in  a  very  cavalier  way  he  took  his  officer 
by  the  arm,  and  drew  him  into-  a  side-walk, 
leaving  me  to  stand  in  the  sun,  bursting  with 
anger  and  spleen.  The  gutter-bred  rascal !  That 
such  a  man  should  insult  me,  and  with  impunity ! 
In  Paris  I  might  have  made  him  fight,  but  here 
it  was  impossible.  I  was  still  foaming  with  rage 
when  they  returned. 

"We  have  come  to  a  determination,"  the  lieu- 
tenant said,  tugging  his  grey  mustachios  and 
standing  like  a  ramrod.  "We  shall  leave  you 
the  house  and  Madame,  and  you  can  take  your 
line  to  find  the  man.  For  ourselves,  we  shall 
draw  off  our  men  to  the  village,  and  we  shall 
take  our  line.  That  is  all,  M.  le  Capitaine,  is 
it  not?" 


THE  QUESTION.  199 

"  I  think  so,"  the  captain  muttered,  looking 
anywhere  but  at  me. 

"  Then  we  bid  you  good-day,  Monsieur,"  the 
lieutenant  added.  And  in  a  moment  he  turned 
his  companion  round,  and  the  two  retired  up  the 
walk  to  the  house,  leaving  me  to  look  after  them 
in  a  black  fit  of  rage  and  incredulity.  At  the 
first  flush  there  was  something  so  offensive  in 
the  manner  of  their  going  that  anger  had  the 
upper  hand.  I  thought  of  the  lieutenant's  words, 
and  I  cursed  him  to  hell  with  a  sickening  con- 
sciousness that  I  should  not  forget  them  in  a 
hurry  :  "  Was  I  playing  the  traitor  to  the  Car- 
dinal or  to  these  women  —  which  ?  "  Man  Dieu  ! 
if  ever  question  —  but  there !  some  day  I  would 
punish  him.  And  the  captain  ?  I  could  put 
an  end  to  his  amusement,  at  any  rate;  and  I 
would.  Doubtless  among  the  country  bucks  of 
Auch  he  lorded  it  as  a  chief  provincial  bully, 
but  I  would  cut  his  comb  for  him  some  fine 
morning  behind  the  barracks. 

And  then,  as  I  grew  cooler  I  began  to  wonder 
why  they  were  going,  and  what  they  were  going 
to  do.  They  might  be  already  on  the  track,  or 


200  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

have  the  information  they  required  under  hand; 
in  that  case  I  could  understand  the  movement. 
But  if  they  were  still  searching  vaguely,  uncer- 
tain whether  their  quarry  were  in  the  neighbour- 
hood or  not,  and  uncertain  how  long  they  might 
have  to  stay,  it  seemed  incredible  that  soldiers 
should  move  from  good  quarters  to  bad  without 
motive. 

I  wandered  down  the  garden  thinking  sullenly 
of  this,  and  pettishly  cutting  off  the  heads  of  the 
flowers  with  my  sheathed  sword.  After  all,  if 
they  found  and  arrested  the  man,  what  then  ? 
I  should  have  to  make  my  peace  with  the  Cardi- 
nal as  I  best  might.  He  would  have  gained  his 
point,  but  not  through  me,  and  I  should  have  to 
look  to  myself.  On  the  other  'hand,  if  I  antici- 
pated them  —  and,  as  a  fact,  I  felt  that  I  could 
lay  my  hand  on  the  fugitive  within  a  few  hours 
—  there  would  come  a  time  when  I  must  face 
Mademoiselle. 

A  little  while  back  that  had  not  seemed  so 
difficult  a  thing.  From  the  day  of  our  first 
meeting  —  and  in  a  higher  degree  since  that 
afternoon  when  she  had  lashed  me  with  her 


THE  QUESTION.  2OI 

scorn  —  my  views  of  her,  and  my  feelings  towards 
her,  had  been  strangely  made  up  of  antagonism 
and  sympathy ;  of  repulsion,  because  in  her  past 
and  present  she  was  so  different  from  me;  of 
yearning,  because  she  was  a  woman  and  friend- 
less. Then  I  had  duped  her  and  bought  her 
confidence  by  returning  the  jewels,  and  in  a 
measure  I  had  sated  my  vengeance ;  and  then, 
as  a  consequence,  sympathy  had  again  begun  to 
get  the  better,  until  now  I  hardly  knew  my  own 
mind  or  what  I  intended.  /  did  not  know,  in  fact, 
what  I  intended.  I  stood  there  in  the  garden 
with  that  conviction  suddenly  new-born  in  my 
mind ;  and  then,  in  a  moment,  I  heard  her  step 
and  turned  to  find  her  behind  me. 

Her  face  was  like  April,  smiles  breaking 
through  her  tears.  As  she  stood  with  a  tall 
hedge  of  sunflowers  behind  her,  I  started  to  see 
how  beautiful  she  was.  "  I  am  here  in  search  of 
you,  M.  de  Barthe,"  she  said,  colouring  slightly, 
perhaps  because  my  eyes  betrayed  my  thought, 
"to  thank  you.  You  have  not  fought,  and  yet 
you  have  conquered.  My  woman  has  just  been 
with  me,  and  she  tells  me  that  they  are  going !  " 


202  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"Going?"  I  said.  "Yes,  Mademoiselle,  they 
are  leaving  the  house." 

She  did  not  understand  my  reservation. 
"  What  magic  have  you  used  ?  "  she  said,  almost 
gaily  —  it  was  wonderful  how  hope  had  changed 
her.  "  Moreover,  I  am  curious  to  learn  how 
you  managed  to  avoid  fighting." 

"After  taking  a  blow?"    I  said  bitterly. 

"  Monsieur,  I  did  not  mean  that,"  she  said  re- 
proachfully. But  her  face  clouded.  I  saw  that, 
viewed  in  this  light  —  in  which  I  suppose  she  had 
not  seen  it  —  the  matter  perplexed  her  still  more. 

I  took  a  sudden  resolution.  "  Have  you  ever 
heard,  Mademoiselle,"  I  said  gravely,  plucking 
off  while  I  spoke  the  dead  leaves  from  a  plant 
beside  me,  "  of  a  gentleman  by  name  De  Berault  ? 
Known  in  Paris,  so  I  have  heard,  by  the  sobri- 
quet of  the  Black  Death?" 

"  The  duellist  ? "  she  answered,  in  wonder. 
"Yes,  I  have  heard  of  him.  He  killed  a  young 
gentleman  of  this  province  at  Nancy  two  years 
back.  It  was  a  sad  story,"  she  continued,  shud- 
dering, "of  a  dreadful  man.  God  keep  our 
friends  from  such !  " 


THE  QUESTION.  203 

"  Amen ! "  I  said  quietly.  But,  in  spite  of 
myself,  I  could  not  meet  her  eyes. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  answered,  quickly  taking  alarm 
at  my  silence.  "  What  of  him,  M.  de  Barthe  ? 
Why  have  you  mentioned  him  ? " 

"  Because  he  is  here,  Mademoiselle." 

"  Here  ? "    she  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle,"  I  answered  soberly. 
"I  am  he." 


CHAPTER    IX. 

CLON. 

"You !  "  she  cried,  in  a  voice  which  pierced  me. 
"  You  —  M.  de  Berault  ?  Impossible  !  "  But, 
glancing  askance,  at  her,  —  I  could  not  face  her, 

—  I  saw  that  the  blood  had  left  her  cheeks. 

"  Yes,  Mademoiselle,"  I  answered,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  De  Barthe  was  my  mother's  name. 
When  I  came  here,  a  stranger,  I  took  it  that  I 
might  not  be  known ;  that  I  might  again  speak 
to  a  good  woman  and  not  see  her  shrink.  That 

—  but   why   trouble   you  with   all   this?"   I  con- 
tinued proudly,  rebelling  against  her  silence,  her 
turned  shoulder,  her  averted  face.     "  You  asked 
me,  Mademoiselle,  how  I  could  take  a  blow  and 
let  the  striker  go.     I  have  answered.     It  is  the 
one  privilege  M.  de  Berault  possesses." 

"Then,"  she  replied  quickly,  but  almost  in  a 
204 


CLON.  205 

whisper,  "if  I  were  M.  de  Berault,  I  would  use  it, 
and  never  fight  again." 

"  In  that  event,  Mademoiselle,"  I  answered  cyni- 
cally, "  I  should  lose  my  men  friends  as  well  as 
my  women  friends.  Like  Monseigneur,  the  Cardi- 
nal, I  rule  by  fear." 

She  shuddered,  either  at  the  name  or  at  the 
idea  my  words  called  up,  and,  for  a  moment,  we 
stood  awkwardly  silent.  The  shadow  of  the 
sundial  fell  between  us ;  the  garden  was  still  ; 
here  and  there  a  leaf  fluttered  slowly  down, 
or  a  seed  fell.  With  each  instant  of  silence  I 
felt  the  gulf  between  us  growing  wider,  I  felt 
myself  growing  harder ;  I  mocked  at  her  past, 
which  was  so  unlike  mine;  I  mocked  at  mine, 
and  called  it  fate.  I  was  on  the  point  of  turn- 
ing from  her  with  a  bow  —  and  a  furnace  in  my 
breast  —  when  she  spoke. 

"  There  is  a  late  rose  lingering  there,"  she 
said,  a  slight  tremor  in  her  voice.  "  I  cannot 
reach  it.  Will  you  pluck  it  for  me,  M.  de 
Berault?" 

I  obeyed  her,  my  hand  trembling,  my  face 
on  fire.  She  took  the  rose  from  me,  and  placed 


206  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

it  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress.  And  I  saw  that 
her  hand  trembled  too,  and  that  her  cheek  was 
dark  with  blushes. 

She  turned  at  once,  and  began  to  walk  towards 
the  house.  Presently  she  spoke.  "  Heaven  for- 
bid that  I  should  misjudge  you  a  second  time ! " 
she  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  And,  after  all,  who 
am  I  that  I  should  judge  you  at  all  ?  An  hour 
ago,  I  would  have  killed  that  man  had  I  pos- 
sessed the  power." 

"You  repented,  Mademoiselle,"  I  said  huskily. 
I  could  scarcely  speak. 

"  Do  you  never  repent  ? " 

"Yes.     But  too  late,  Mademoiselle." 

"Perhaps  it  is  never  too  late,"  she  answered 
softly. 

"Alas,  when  a  man  is  dead  — " 

"  You  may  rob  a  man  of  more  than  life ! "  she 
replied  with  energy,  stopping  me  by  a  gesture. 
"  If  you  have  never  robbed  a  man  —  or  a  woman 
—  of  honour  !  If  you  have  never  ruined  boy  or 
girl,  M.  de  Berault!  If  you  have  never  pushed 
another  into  the  pit  and  gone  by  it  yourself ! 
If  —  but  for  murder?  Listen.  You  may  be  a 


CLOAT.  207 

Romanist,  but  I  am  a  Huguenot,  and  have  read. 
'  Thou  shalt  not  kill ! '  it  is  written ;  and  the  pen- 
alty, '  By  man  shall  thy  blood  be  shed ! '  But, 
'  If  you  cause  one  of  these  little  ones  to  offend,  it 
were  better  for  you  that  a  mill-stone  were  hanged 
about  your  neck,  and  that  you  were  cast  into  the 
depths  of  the  sea.'  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  are  too  merciful,"  I 
muttered. 

"  I  need  mercy  myself,"  she  answered,  sighing. 
"And  I  have  had  few  temptations.  How  do  I 
know  what  you  have  suffered  ? " 

"  Or  done  !  "  I  said,  almost  rudely. 

"  Where  a  man  has  not  lied,  nor  betrayed,  nor 
sold  himself  or  others,"  she  answered  firmly,  but 
in  a  low  tone,  "  I  think  I  can  forgive  all  else. 
I  can  better  put  up  with  force,"  she  added, 
smiling  sadly,  "than  with  fraud." 

Ah,  Dieu !  I  turned  away  my  face  that  she 
might  not  see  how  it  paled,  how  I  winced;  that 
she  might  not  guess  how  her  words,  meant  in 
mercy,  stabbed  me  to  the  heart.  And  yet,  then, 
for  the  first  time,  while  viewing  in  all  its  depth 
and  width  the  gulf  which  separated  us,  I  was 


208  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

not  hardened;  I  was  not  cast  back  on  myself. 
Her  gentleness,  her  pity,  her  humility,  softened 
me,  while  they  convicted  me.  My  God !  How 
could  I  do  that  which  I  had  come  to  do  ? 
How  could  I  stab  her  in  the  tenderest  part,  how 
could  I  inflict  on  her  that  rending  pang,  how 
could  I  meet  her  eyes,  and  stand  before  her, 
a  Caliban,  a  Judas,  the  vilest,  lowest,  basest 
thing  she  could  conceive  ? 

I  stood,  a  moment,  speechless  and  disordered ; 
stunned  by  her  words,  by  my  thoughts  —  as  I 
have  seen  a  man  stand  when  he  has  lost  his 
all,  his  last,  at  the  tables.  Then  I  turned  to 
her;  and  for  an  instant  I  thought  that  my  tale 
was  told  already.  I  thought  that  she  had  pierced 
my  disguise,  for  her  face  was  aghast,  stricken 
with  sudden  fear.  Then  I  saw  that  she  was  not 
looking  at  me,  but  beyond  me,  and  I  turned 
quickly  and  saw  a  servant  hurrying  from  the 
house  to  us.  It  was  Louis.  His  face,  it  was, 
had  frightened  her.  His  eyes  were  staring,  his 
hair  waved,  his  cheeks  were  flabby  with  dismay. 
He  breathed  as  if  he  had  been  running. 

"  What   is   it  ? "    Mademoiselle  cried,  while   he 


CLOW.  209 

was  still  some  way  off.  "Speak,  man.  My 
sister?  Is  she  —  " 

"Clon,"  he  gasped. 

The  name  changed  her  to  stone.  "  Clon  ? " 
she  muttered.  "What  of  him?" 

"  In  the  village ! "  Louis  panted,  his  tongue 
stuttering  with  terror.  "  They  are  flogging  him  ! 
They  are  killing  him,  Mademoiselle!  To  make 
him  tell ! " 

Mademoiselle  grasped  the  sundial  and  leant 
against  it,  her  face  colourless,  and,  for  an  in- 
stant, I  thought  that  she  was  fainting.  "  Tell  ?  " 
I  said  mechanically.  "  But  he  cannot  tell.  He 
is  dumb,  man." 

"They  will  make  him  guide  them,"  Louis 
groaned,  covering  his  ears  with  his  shaking 
hands,  his  face  like  paper.  "  And  his  cries ! 
Oh,  Monsieur,  go ! "  he  continued,  suddenly  ap- 
pealing to  me,  in  a  thrilling  tone.  "  Save  him. 
All  through  the  wood  I  heard  them.  It  was 
horrible!  horrible!" 

Mademoiselle  uttered  a  low  moan,  and  I  turned 
to  support  her,  thinking  each  second  to  see  her 
fall.  But  with  a  sudden  movement  she  straight- 


210  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

ened  herself,  and,  slipping  by  me,  with  eyes 
which  seemed  to  see  nothing,  she  started  swiftly 
down  the  walk  towards  the  meadow  gate. 

I  ran  after  her,  but,  taken  by  surprise  as  I 
was,  it  was  only  by  a  great  effort  I  reached  the 
gate  before  her,  and,  thrusting  myself  in  the  road, 
barred  the  way.  "  Let  me  pass !  "  she  panted 
fiercely,  striving  to  thrust  me  on  one  side.  "  Out 
of  my  way,  Sir!  I  am  going  to  the  village." 

"You  are  not  going  to  the  village,"  I  said 
sternly.  "Go  back  to  the  house,  Mademoiselle, 
and  at  once."  * 

"  My  servant! "  she  wailed.  "  Let  me  go  !  Oh, 
let  me  go !  Do  you  think  I  can  rest  here  while 
they  torture  him  ?  He  cannot  speak,  and  they 
-they  —  " 

"Go  back,  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  cutting  her 
short,  with  decision.  "  You  would  only  make 
matters  worse !  I  will  go  myself,  and  what  one 
man  can  do  against  many,  I  will !  Louis,  give 
your  mistress  your  arm  and  take  her  to  the 
house.  Take  her  to  Madame." 

"  But  you  will  go  ?  "  she  cried.  Before  I  could 
stay  her  —  I  swear  I  would  have  done  so  if  I 


CLON.  211 

could  —  she  raised  my  hand  and  carried  it  to 
her  trembling  lips.  "You  will  go!  Go  and  stop 
them !  Stop  them,"  she  continued,  in  a  tone 
which  stirred  my  heart,  "  and  Heaven  reward 
you,  Monsieur !  " 

I  did  not  answer;  nor  did  I  once  look  back, 
as  I  crossed  the  meadow ;  but  I  did  not  look 
forward  either.  Doubtless  it  was  grass  I  trod; 
doubtless  the  wood  was  before  me  with  the  sun 
shining  aslant  on  it,  and  behind  me  the  house 
with  a  flame  here  and  there  on  the  windows.  But 
I  went  in  a  dream,  among  shadows ;  with  a  racing 
pulse,  in  a  glow  from  head  to  heel ;  conscious  of 
nothing  but  the  touch  of  Mademoiselle's  warm 
lips,  seeing  neither  meadows  nor  house,  nor  even 
the  dark  fringe  of  wood  before  me,  but  only 
Mademoiselle's  passionate  face.  For  the  moment 
I  was  drunk  :  drunk  with  that  to  which  I  had 
been  so  long  a  stranger,  with  that  which  a  man  may 
scorn  for  years,  to  find  it  at  last  beyond  his  reach 
—  drunk  with  the  touch  of  a  good  woman's  lips. 

I  passed  the  bridge  in  this  state ;  and  my  feet 
were  among  the  brushwood  before  the  heat  and 
fervour  in  which  I  moved  found  on  a  sudden 

P   2 


212  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

their  direction.  Something  began  to  penetrate 
to  my  veiled  senses  —  a  hoarse  inarticulate  cry, 
now  deep,  now  shrilling  horribly,  which  seemed 
to  fill  the  wood.  It  came  at  intervals  of  half  a 
minute  or  so,  and  made  the  flesh  creep,  it  was 
so  full  of  dumb  pain,  of  impotent  wrestling,  of 
unspeakable  agony.  I  am  a  man  and  have  seen 
things.  I  saw  the  Concini  beheaded,  and  Chalais 
ten  years  later  —  they  gave  him  thirty-four  blows ; 
and  when  I  was  a  boy  I  escaped  from  the  college 
and  viewed  from  a  great  distance  Ravaillac  torn 
by  horses  —  that  was  in  the  year  ten.  But  the 
horrible  cries  I  now  heard  filled  me,  perhaps  be- 
cause I  was  alone  and  fresh  from  the  sight  of 
Mademoiselle,  with  loathing  that  was  intense.  The 
very  wood,  though  the  sun  wanted  an  hour  of  set- 
ting, seemed  to  grow  dark.  I  ran  on  through  it, 
cursing,  until  the  hovels  of  the  village  at  length 
came  in  sight.  Again  the  shriek  rose,  a  pulsing 
horror,  and  this  time  I  could  hear  the  lash  fall 
on  the  sodden  flesh,  I  could  see  in  fancy  the 
strong  man,  trembling,  quivering,  straining  against 
his  bonds.  And  then,  in  a  moment,  I  was  in 
the  street,  and,  as  the  scream  once  more  tore 


I  sprang  through  the  line  of  soldiers. 


CLON.  213 

the  air,  I  dashed  round  the  corner  by  the  inn, 
and  came  upon  them. 

I  did  not  look  at  him.  I  saw  Captain  Larolle 
and  the  lieutenant,  and  a  ring  of  troopers,  and 
one  man,  bare-armed,  teasing  out  with  his  fingers 
the  thongs  of  a  whip.  The  thongs  dripped  blood, 
and  the  sight  fired  the  mine.  The  rage  I  had 
suppressed  when  the  lieutenant  bearded  me  ear- 
lier in  the  afternoon,  the  passion  with  which 
Mademoiselle's  distress  had  filled  my  breast,  at 
last  found  vent.  I  sprang  through  the  line  of 
soldiers,  and  striking  the  man  with  the  whip  a 
buffet  between  the  shoulders,  which  hurled  him 
breathless  to  the  ground,  I  turned  on  the  leaders. 
"  You  devils !  "  I  cried.  "  Shame  on  you !  The 
man  is  dumb !  I  tell  you,  if  I  had  ten  men  with 
me,  I  would  sweep  you  and  your  scum  out  of  the 
village  with  broomsticks.  Lay  on  another  lash," 
I  continued  recklessly,  "  and  I  will  see  if  you  or 
the  Cardinal  be  the  stronger." 

The  lieutenant  glared  at  me,  his  grey  moustache 
bristling,  his  eyes  almost  starting  from  his  head. 
Some  of  the  troopers  laid  their  hands  on  their 
swords,  but  no  one  moved,  and  only  the  captain 


214  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

spoke.  " Mille  diables!"  he  swore.  "What  is 
all  this  about?  Are  you  mad,  Sir?" 

"  Mad  or  sane !  "  I  cried,  still  in  a  fury.  "  Lay 
on  another  lash,  and  you  shall  repent  it." 

"  I  ? " 

"  Yes,  you !  " 

For  an  instant  there  was  a  pause  of  astonish- 
ment. Then  to  my  surprise  the  captain  laughed 
—  laughed  loudly.  "Very  heroic!"  he  said. 
"Quite  magnificent,  M.  le  Chevalier-errant.  But 
you  see,  unfortunately,  you  come  too  late  !  " 

"  Too  late  !  "    I  said  incredulously. 

"Yes,  too  late,"  he  replied,  with  a  mocking 
smile.  And  the  lieutenant  grinned  too.  "You 
see  the  man  has  just  confessed.  We  have  only 
been  giving  him  an  extra  touch  or  two,  to  impress 
his  memory,  and  save  us  the  trouble  of  tying  him 
up  again." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  I  said  bluntly  — but  I  felt 
the  check,  and  fell  to  earth.  "The  man  cannot 
speak." 

"  No,  but  he  has  managed  to  tell  us  that  he 
will  guide  us  to  the  place  we  want,"  the  captain 
answered  drily.  "The  whip,  if  it  cannot  find  a 


CLON.  215 

man  a  tongue,  can  find  him  wits.  What  is  more, 
I  think,  he  will  keep  his  word,"  he  continued,  with 
a  hideous  smile.  "  For  I  warn  him  that  if  he  does 
not,  all  your  heroics  shall  not  save  him  !  He  is  a 
rebel  dog,  and  known  to  us  of  old,  and  I  will  flay 
his  back  to  the  bones  —  ay,  until  we  can  see  his 
heart  beating  through  his  ribs  —  but  I  will  have 
what  I  want  —  in  your  teeth,  too,  you  d — d  med- 
dler." 

"  Steady,  steady ! "  I  said,  somewhat  sobered. 
I  saw  that  he  was  telling  me  the  truth.  "  He  is 
going  to  take  you  to  M.  de  Cocheforet's  hiding- 
place,  is  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is !  "  the  captain  retorted  offensively. 
"  Have  you  any  objection  to  make  to  that,  Master 
Spy?" 

"  None,"  I  replied.  "  But  I  shall  go  with  you. 
And  if  you  live  three  months,  I  shall  kill  you  for 
that  name  —  behind  the  barracks  at  Auch,  M.  le 
Capitaine." 

He  changed  colour,  but  he  answered  me  boldly 
enough.  "  I  don't  know  that  you  will  go  with  us. 
That  is  as  we  please,"  he  continued,  with  a  snarl. 

"  I  have  the  Cardinal's  orders,"  I  said  sternly. 


2l6  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  The  Cardinal  ? "  he  exclaimed,  stung  to  fury 
by  this  repetition  of  the  name.  "The  Cardinal 
be  —  " 

But  the  lieutenant  laid  his  hands  on  his  lips, 
and  stopped  him.  "Hush!"  he  said.  Then  more 
quietly,  "Your  pardon,  M.  le  Capitaine.  Shall  I 
give  orders  to  the  men  to  fall  in  ? " 

The  captain  nodded  sullenly. 

"  Take  him  down !  "  the  lieutenant  ordered,  in 
his  harsh,  monotonous  voice.  "  Throw  his  blouse 
over  him,  and  tie  his  hands.  And  do  you  two, 
Paul  and  Lebrun,  guard  him.  Michel,  bring  the 
whip,  or  he  may  forget  how  it  tastes.  Sergeant, 
choose  four  good  men  and  dismiss  the  rest  to  their 
quarters." 

"Shall  we  need  the  horses?"  the  sergeant 
asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  the  captain  answered  peev- 
ishly. "  What  does  the  rogue  say  ? " 

The  lieutenant  stepped  up  to  him.  "  Listen !  " 
he  said  grimly.  "  Nod  if  you  mean  yes,  and  shake 
your  head  if  you  mean  no.  And  have  a  care  you 
answer  truly.  Is  it  more  than  a  mile  to  this 
place  ?  The  place  you  know  of? " 


CLON.  217 

They  had  loosened  the  poor  wretch's  fasten- 
ings, and  covered  his  back.  He  stood  leaning 
against  the  wall,  his  mouth  still  panting,  the 
sweat  running  down  his  hollow  cheeks ;  his 
sunken  eyes  were  closed ;  a  quiver  now  and 
again  ran  through  his  frame.  The  lieutenant 
repeated  his  question,  and,  getting  no  answer, 
looked  round  for  orders.  The  captain  met  the 
look,  and  crying  savagely,  "  Answer,  will  you,  you 
mute ! "  struck  the  half -swooning  miserable  across 
the  back  with  his  switch.  The  effect  was  magi- 
cal. Covered,  as  his  shoulders  were,  the  man 
sprang  erect  with  a  shriek  of  pain,  raising  his 
chin,  and  hollowing  his  back ;  and  in  that  attitude 
stood  an  instant  with  starting  eyes,  gasping  for 
breath.  Then  he  sank  back  against  the  wall, 
moving  his  mouth  spasmodically.  His  face  was 
the  colour  of  lead. 

"  Diable  !  I  think  we  have  gone  too  far  with 
him !  "  the  captain  muttered. 

"  Bring  some  wine ! "  the  lieutenant  replied. 
"  Quick  with  it !  " 

I  looked  on,  burning  with  indignation,  and 
wondering  besides  what  would  come  of  this.  If 


2l8  UNDER    THE  RED  ROBE. 

the  man  took  them  to  the  place,  and  they  suc- 
ceeded in  seizing  Cocheforet,  there  was  an  end 
of  the  matter  as  far  as  I  was  concerned.  It  was 
off  my  shoulders,  and  I  might  leave  the  village 
when  I  pleased ;  nor  was  it  likely  —  since  he 
would  have  his  man,  though  not  through  me  — 
that  the  Cardinal  would  refuse  me  an  amnesty. 
On  the  whole,  I  thought  that  I  would  prefer  that 
things  should  take  that  course  ;  and  assuming  the 
issue,  I  began  to  wonder  whether  in  that  event  it 
would  be  necessary  that  Madame  should  know  the 
truth.  I  had  a  kind  of  a  vision  of  a  reformed 
Berault,  dead  to  play  and  purging  himself  at  a 
distance  from  Zaton's,  winning,  perhaps,  a  name 
in  the  Italian  war,  and  finally  —  but,  pshaw!  I 
was  a  fool. 

However,  be  that  as  it  might,  it  was  essential 
that  I  should  see  the  arrest  made;  and  I  waited 
patiently  while  they  revived  the  tortured  man, 
and  made  their  dispositions.  These  took  some 
time ;  so  that  the  sun  was  down,  and  it  was  grow- 
ing dusk,  when  we  marched  out,  Clon  going  first, 
supported  by  his  two  guards,  the  captain  and  I 
following,  —  abreast,  and  eyeing  one  another 


CLON.  219 

piciously,  —  the  lieutenant,  with  the  sergeant  and 
five  troopers,  bringing  up  the  rear.  Clon  moved 
slowly,  moaning  from  time  to  time,  and  but  for 
the  aid  given  him  by  the  two  men  with  him, 
must  have  sunk  down  again  and  again. 

He  went  out  between  two  houses  close  to  the 
inn,  and  struck  a  narrow  track,  scarcely  discern- 
ible, which  ran  behind  other  houses,  and  then 
plunged  into  the  thickest  part  of  the  wood.  A 
single  person,  traversing  the  covert,  might  have 
made  such  a  track ;  or  pigs,  or  children.  But  it 
was  the  first  idea  that  occurred  to  us,  and  it  put 
us  all  on  the  alert.  The  captain  carried  a  cocked 
pistol,  I  held  my  sword  drawn,  and  kept  a  watch- 
ful eye  on  him ;  and  the  deeper  the  dusk  fell 
in  the  wood,  the  more  cautiously  we  went,  until 
at  last  we  came  out  with  a  sort  of  jump  into  a 
wider  and  lighter  path. 

I  looked  up  and  down  it,  and  saw  before  me 
a  wooden  bridge,  and  an  open  meadow,  lying 
cold  and  grey  in  the  twilight;  and  I  stood  in 
astonishment.  It  was  the  old  path  to  the  Cha- 
teau !  I  shivered  at  the  thought  that  he  was 
going  to  take  us  there,  to  the  house  —  to  Made- 
moiselle ! 


220  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

The  captain  also  recognised  the  place,  and 
swore  aloud.  But  the  dumb  man  went  on  un- 
heeding, until  he  reached  the  wooden  bridge. 
There  he  paused  as  if  in  doubt,  and  looked 
towards  the  dark  outline  of  the  building,  which 
was  just  visible,  one  faint  light  twinkling  sadly  in 
the  west  wing.  As  the  captain  and  I  pressed  up 
behind  him,  he  raised  his  hands  and  seemed  to 
wring  them  towards  the  house. 

"  Have  a  care  !  "  the  captain  growled.  "  Play 
me  no  tricks,  or  —  "  But  he  did  not  finish  the 
sentence ;  for  Clon  turned  back  from  the  bridge, 
and,  entering  the  wood  on  the  left  hand,  began 
to  ascend  the  bank  of  the  stream.  We  had  not 
gone  a  hundred  yards  before  the  ground  grew 
rough,  and  the  undergrowth  thick;  and  yet 
through  all  ran  a  kind  of  path  which  enabled 
us  to  advance,  dark  as  it  was  growing.  Very 
soon  the  bank  on  which  we  moved  began  to 
rise  above  the  water,  and  grew  steep  and  rugged. 
We  turned  a  shoulder,  where  the  stream  swept 
round  a  curve,  and  saw  we  were  in  the  mouth 
of  a  small  ravine,  dark  and  steep-walled.  The 
water  brawled  along  the  bottom,  over  boulders 


CLON.  221 

and  through  chasms.  In  front,  the  slope  on 
which  we  stood  shaped  itself  into  a  low  cliff; 
but  half-way  between  its  summit  and  the  water, 
a  ledge,  or  narrow  terrace,  running  along  the 
face,  was  dimly  visible. 

"  Ten  to  one,  a  cave ! "  the  captain  muttered. 
"It  is  a  likely  place." 

"  And  an  ugly  one  !  "  I  sneered.  "  Which  one 
to  ten  might  safely  hold  for  hours ! " 

"  If  the  ten  had  no  pistols  —  yes !  "  he 
answered  viciously.  "  But  you  see  we  have. 
Is  he  going  that  way?" 

He  was.  "  Lieutenant,"  Larolle  said,  turning 
and  speaking  in  a  low  voice,  though  the  chafing 
of  the  stream  below  us  covered  ordinary  sounds, 
"  shall  we  light  the  lanthorns,  or  press  on  while 
there  is  still  a  glimmering  of  day  ? " 

"  On,  I  should  say,  M.  le  Capitaine,"  the  lieu- 
tenant answered.  "  Prick  him  in  the  back  if  he 
falters.  I  will  warrant  he  has  a  tender  place  or 
two ! "  the  brute  added,  with  a  chuckle. 

The  captain  gave  the  word,  and  we  moved 
forward;  it  being  very  evident  now  that  the 
cliff-path  was  our  destination.  It  was  possible 


222  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

for  the  eye  to  follow  the  track  all  the  way  to  it 
through  rough  stones  and  brushwood ;  and  though 
Clon  climbed  feebly  and  with  many  groans,  two 
minutes  saw  us  step  on  to  it.  It  did  not  turn 
out  to  be  the  perilous  place  it  looked  at  a  dis- 
tance. The  ledge,  grassy  and  terrace-like,  sloped 
slightly  downwards  and  outwards,  and  in  parts 
was  slippery ;  but  it  was  as  wide  as  a  highway, 
and  the  fall  to  the  water  did  not  exceed  thirty 
feet.  Even  in  such  a  dim  light  as  now  displayed 
it  to  us,  and  by  increasing  the  depth  and  unseen 
dangers  of  the  gorge,  gave  a  kind  of  impressive- 
ness  to  our  movements,  a  nervous  woman  need 
not  have  feared  to  breast  it.  I  wondered  how 
often  Mademoiselle  had  passed  along  it  with  her 
milk-pitcher. 

"  I  think  we  have  him  now ! "  Captain  Larolle 
muttered,  twisting  his  mustachios,  and  looking 
round  to  make  his  last  dispositions.  "  Paul  and 
Lebrun,  see  that  your  man  makes  no  noise.  Ser- 
geant, come  forward  with  your  carbine,  but  do 
not  fire  without  orders.  Now,  silence,  all,  and 
close  up,  Lieutenant.  Forward !  " 

We  advanced  about  a  hundred  paces,  keeping 


CLON.  223 

the  cliff  on  our  left,  then  turned  a  shoulder,  and 
saw,  a  few  paces  in  front  of  us,  a  black  blotch 
standing  out  from  the  grey  duskiness  of  the  cliff- 
side.  The  prisoner  stopped,  and  raising  his 
bound  hands  pointed  to  it. 

"  There  ?  "  the  captain  whispered,  pressing  for- 
ward. "Is  that  the  place?" 

Clon  nodded.  The  captain's  voice  shook  with 
excitement.  "  You  two  remain  here  with  him  !  " 
he  muttered,  in  a  low  tone.  "  Sergeant,  come 
forward  with  me.  Now,  are  you  ready?  For- 
ward ! " 

He  and  the  sergeant  passed  quickly,  one  on 
either  side  of  Clon  and  his  guards.  The  path 
was  narrow  here,  and  the  captain  passed  outside. 
The  eyes  of  all  but  one  were  on  the  black 
blotch,  the  hollow  in  the  cliff-side,  and  no  one 
saw  exactly  what  happened.  But  somehow,  as 
the  captain  passed  abreast  of  him,  the  prisoner 
thrust  back  his  guards,  and  springing  sideways, 
flung  his  unbound  arms  round  Larolle's  body, 
and  in  an  instant  swept  him,  shouting,  to  the 
verge  of  the  precipice. 

It  was  done  in  a  moment.     By  the  time  the 


224  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

lieutenant's  startled  wits  and  eyes  were  back, 
the  two  were  already  tottering  on  the  edge,  look- 
ing in  the  gloom  like  one  dark  form.  The  ser- 
geant, who  was  the  first  to  find  his  head,  levelled 
his  carbine;  but  as  the  wrestlers  twirled  and 
twisted,  the  captain  shrieking  out  oaths  and 
threats,  the  mute  silent  as  death,  it  was  impos- 
sible to  see  which  was  which ;  and  the  sergeant 
lowered  his  gun  again,  while  the  men  held  back 
nervously.  The  ledge  sloped  steeply  there ;  the 
edge  was  vague ;  already  the  two  seemed  to  be 
wrestling  in  mid-air,  —  and  the  mute  was  a  man 
beyond  hope  or  fear. 

That  moment  of  hesitation  was  fatal.  Clon's 
long  arms  were  round  the  other's  arms,  crushing 
them  into  his  ribs;  Clon's  skull-like  face  grinned 
hate  into  the  other's  eyes;  his  long  limbs  curled 
round  him  like  the  folds  of  a  snake.  Suddenly 
Larolle's  strength  gave  way.  "  Damn  you  all ! 
Why  don't  you  —  Mercy  !  mercy !  "  came  in  a 
last  scream  from  his  lips;  and  then,  as  the  lieu- 
tenant, taken  aback  before,  sprang  forward  to 
his  aid,  the  two  toppled  over  the  edge,  and  in  a 
second  hurtled  out  of  sight. 


CLON.  22$ 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  "  the  lieutenant  cried,  in  horror. 
The  answer  was  a  dull  splash  in  the  depths 
below. 

He  flung  up  his  arms.  "  Water ! "  he  said. 
"  Quick,  men,  get  down !  We  may  save  him  yet ! 
They  have  fallen  into  water ! " 

But  there  was  no  path,  and  night  was  come, 
and  the  men's  nerves  were  shaken.  The  Ian- 
thorns  had  to  be  lit,  and  the  way  to  be  retraced ; 
and  by  the  time  we  reached  the  dark  pool  which 
lay  below,  the  last  bubbles  were  gone  from  the 
surface,  the  last  ripples  had  beaten  themselves 
out  against  the  banks.  True,  the  pool  still  rocked 
sullenly,  and  the  yellow  light  showed  a  man's 
hat  floating,  and  near  it  a  glove  three  parts 
submerged.  But  that  was  all.  The  mute's  dying 
grip  had  known  no  loosening,  nor  his  hate  any 
fear.  Later,  I  heard  that  when  they  dragged 
the  two  out  next  day,  his  fingers  were  in  the 
other's  eye-sockets,  his  teeth  in  his  throat.  If 
ever  man  found  death  sweet,  it  was  he. 

As  we  turned  slowly  from  the  black  water, 
some  shuddering,  some  crossing  themselves,  the 
lieutenant  looked  vengefully  at  me.  "  Curse 

Q 


226  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

you !  "  he  said,  in  sudden  fury.  "  I  believe  you 
are  glad !  " 

"  He  deserved  his  fate,"  I  answered  coldly. 
"  Why  should  I  pretend  to  be  sorry  ?  It  was 
now  or  in  three  months.  And  for  the  other  poor 
devil's  sake  I  am  glad." 

He  glared  at  me  a  moment,  in  speechless  anger. 
At  last,  "  I  should  like  to  have  you  tied  up ! " 
he  said,  between  his  teeth. 

"  I  should  have  thought  that  you  had  had 
enough  of  tying  up  for  one  day ! "  I  retorted. 
"  But  there ;  it  comes  of  making  officers  out  of 
the  canaille.  Dogs  love  blood.  The  teamster 
must  still  lash  something,  if  he  can  no  longer 
lash  his  horses." 

We  were  back,  a  sombre  little  procession,  at 
the  wooden  bridge,  when  I  said  this.  He  stopped 
'suddenly.  "  Very  well,"  he  replied,  nodding 
viciously.  "  That  decides  me.  Sergeant,  light 
me  this  way  with  a  lanthorn.  The  rest  of  you 
to  the  village.  Now,  Master  Spy,"  he  continued, 
glancing  at  me  with  gloomy  spite,  "  your  road  is 
my  road.  I  think  I  know  how  to  cook  your  goose." 

I   shrugged   my  shoulders   in   disdain,  and   to- 


CLON.  227 

gather,  the  sergeant  leading  the  way  with  the 
light,  we  crossed  the  meadow,  and  passed  through 
the  gate  where  Mademoiselle  had  kissed  my 
hand,  and  up  the  ghostly  walk  between  the  rose- 
bushes. I  wondered  uneasily  what  the  lieu- 
tenant would  be  at,  and  what  he  intended;  but 
the  lanthorn  light  which  now  fell  on  the  ground 
at  our  feet,  and  now  showed  one  of  us  to  the 
other,  high-lit  in  a  frame  of  blackness,  discov- 
ered nothing  in  his  grizzled  face  but  settled  hos- 
tility. He  wheeled  at  the  end  of  the  walk  to 
go  to  the  main  door;  but  as  he  did  so,  I  saw 
the  flutter  of  a  white  skirt  by  the  stone  seat 
against  the  house,  and  I  stepped  that  way. 
"  Mademoiselle,"  I  said  softly,  "  is  it  you  ? " 

"  Clon  ? "  she  muttered,  her  voice  quivering. 
"What  of  him?" 

"  He  is  past  pain,"  I  answered  gently.  "  He 
is  dead,  but  in  his  own  way.  Take  comfort, 
Mademoiselle."  And  then  before  I  could  say 
more,  the  lieutenant  with  his  sergeant  and  light 
were  at  my  elbow.  He  saluted  Mademoiselle 
roughly.  She  looked  at  him  with  shuddering 

abhorrence. 

Q  2 


228  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  Are  you  come  to  flog  me,  Sir  ? "  she  said 
icily.  "  Is  it  not  enough  that  you  have  murdered 
my  servant  ? " 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  was  he  killed  my  captain," 
the  lieutenant  answered,  in  another  tone  than 
I  had  expected.  "  If  your  servant  is  dead,  so 
is  my  comrade." 

She  looked  with  startled  eyes,  not  at  him,  but 
at  me.  "What!  Captain  Larolle  ?"  she  muttered. 

I  nodded. 

"How?"    she  asked. 

"  Clon  flung  the  captain  and  himself  into  the 
river-pool,"  I  explained,  in  a  low  voice.  "  The 
pool  above  the  bridge." 

She  uttered  an  exclamation  of  awe,  and  stood 
silent.  But  her  lips  moved ;  I  think  she  was 
praying  for  Clon,  though  she  was  a  Huguenot. 
Meanwhile  I  had  a  fright.  The  lanthorn,  swing- 
ing in  the  sergeant's  hand,  and  now  throwing  its 
smoky  light  on  the  stone  seat,  now  on  the  rough 
wall  above  it,  showed  me  something  else.  On 
the  seat,  doubtless  where  Mademoiselle's  hand 
had  lain,  as  she  sat  in  the  dark,  listening  and 
watching,  stood  a  pitcher  of  food.  Beside  her,  in 


CLON.  229 

that  place,  it  was  damning  evidence.  I  trembled 
lest  the  lieutenant's  eye  should  fall  upon  it, 
lest  the  sergeant  should  see  it;  I  thought  what 
I  could  do  to  hide  it;  and  then  in  a  moment 
I  forgot  all  about  it.  The  lieutenant  was  speak- 
ing, and  his  voice  was  like  doom.  My  throat 
grew  dry  as  I  listened.  My  tongue  stuck  to  my 
mouth;  I  tried  to  look  at  Mademoiselle,  but  I 
could  not. 

"  It  is  true,  the  captain  is  gone,"  he  said  stiffly. 
"  But  others  are  alive,  and  about  one  of  them,  a 
word  with  you,  —  by  your  leave,  Mademoiselle. 
I  have  listened  to  a  good  deal  of  talk  from  this 
fine  gentleman  friend  of  yours.  He  has  spent 
the  last  twenty-four  hours  saying,  '  You  shall ! ' 
and  '  You  shall  not ! '  He  came  from  you,  and 
took  a  very  high  tone  because  we  laid  a  little 
whip-lash  about  that  dumb  devil  of  yours.  He 
called  us  brutes  and  beasts,  and  but  for  him 
I  am  not  sure  that  my  friend  would  not  be 
alive.  But  when  he  said  a  few  minutes  ago 
that  he  was  glad, — glad  of  it,  damn  him! — then 
I  fixed  it  in  my  mind  that  I  would  be  even  with 
him.  And  I  am  going  to  be !  " 


230  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Mademoiselle  asked, 
wearily  interrupting  him.  "  If  you  think  you 
can  prejudice  me  against  that  gentleman  —  " 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  do  think !  And  I 
am  going  to  do  it.  And  a  little  more  than 
that!" 

"  You  will  be  only  wasting  your  breath !  "  she 
answered  proudly. 

"  Wait !  wait,  Mademoiselle,  until  you  have 
heard !  "  he  said.  "  If  ever  a  black-hearted 
scoundrel,  a  dastardly,  sneaking  spy,  trod  the 
earth,  it  is  this  fellow!  This  friend  of  yours^ 
And  I  am  going  to  expose  him.  Your  own  eyes 
and  your  own  ears  shall  persuade  you.  Why, 
I  would  not  eat,  I  would  not  drink,  I  would  not 
sit  down  with  him !  I  would  not !  I  would 
rather  be  beholden  to  the  meanest  trooper  in 
my  squadron  than  to  him !  Ay,  I  would,  so 
help  me  Heaven !  "  And  the  lieutenant,  turning 
squarely  on  his  heels,  spat  on  the  ground. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE   ARREST. 

So  it  had  come !  And  come  in  such  a  fashion 
that  I  saw  no  way  of  escape.  The  sergeant  was 
between  us,  and  I  could  not  strike  him.  And 
I  found  no  words.  A  score  of  times  I  had 
thought  with  shrinking  how  I  should  reveal  my 
secret  to  Mademoiselle,  what  I  should  say,  and 
how  she  would  take  it.  But  in  my  mind  it  had 
always  been  a  voluntary  act,  this  disclosure.  It 
had  been  always  I  who  had  unmasked  myself, 
and  she  who  listened  —  alone ;  and  in  this  volun- 
tariness  and  this  privacy  there  had  been  some- 
thing which  seemed  to  take  from  the  shame 
of  anticipation.  But  here  —  here  was  no  volun- 
tary act  on  my  part,  no  privacy,  nothing  but 
shame.  I  stood  mute,  convicted,  speechless  — 
like  the  thing  I  was. 

Yet  if  anything  could  have  braced  me,  it  was 
231 


232  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

Mademoiselle's  voice,  when  she  answered  him. 
"  Go  on,  Monsieur,"  she  said,  with  the  perfect 
calmness  of  scorn.  "You  will  have  done  the 
sooner." 

"  You  do  not  believe  me  ?  "  he  replied  hotly. 
"Then,  I  say,  look  at  him!  Look  at  him!  If 
ever  shame  —  " 

"  Monsieur  !  "  she  said  abruptly  —  she  did  not 
look  at  me.  "  I  am  ashamed  myself !  " 

"  Why,  his  very  name  is  not  his  own  !  "  the 
lieutenant  rejoined  jerkily.  "  He  is  no  Barthe  at 
all.  He  is  Berault  the  gambler,  the  duellist,  the 
bully  —  " 

Again  she  interrupted  him.  "  I  know  it,"  she 
said  coldly.  "  I  know  it  all.  And  if  you  have 
nothing  more  to  tell  me,  go,  Monsieur.  Go !  " 
she  continued,  in  a  tone  of  infinite  scorn. 
"  Enough  that  you  have  earned  my  contempt  as 
well  as  my  abhorrence  !  " 

He  looked  for  a  moment  taken  aback.  Then, 
"  Ay,  but  I  have  more ! "  he  cried,  his  voice 
stubbornly  triumphant.  "  I  forgot  that  you  would 
think  little  of  that !  I  forgot  that  a  swordsman 
has  always  the  ladies'  hearts.  But  I  have  more. 


THE  ARREST.  233 

Do  you  know,  too,  that  he  is  in  the  Cardinal's 
pay  ?  Do  you  know  that  he  is  here  on  the 
same  errand  which  brings  us  here,  —  to  arrest 
M.  de  Cocheforet  ?  Do  you  know  that  while  we 
go  about  the  business  openly  and  in  soldier 
fashion,  it  is  his  part  to  worm  himself  into  your 
confidence,  to  sneak  into  Madame's  intimacy,  to 
listen  at  your  door,  to  follow  your  footsteps,  to 
hang  on  your  lips,  to  track  you  —  track  you 
until  you  betray  yourselves  and  the  man  ?  Do 
you  know  this,  and  that  all  his  sympathy  is  a 
lie,  Mademoiselle  ?  His  help,  so  much  bait  to 
catch  the  secret  ?  His  aim,  blood-money  —  blood- 
money  ?  Why,  morbleu!"  the  lieutenant  con- 
tinued, pointing  his  finger  at  me,  and  so  carried 
away  by  passion,  so  lifted  out  of  himself  by 
wrath  and  indignation,  that  in  spite  of  myself 
I  shrank  before  him,  —  "  you  talk,  lady,  of  con- 
tempt and  abhorrence  in  the  same  breath  with 
me !  But  what  have  you  for  him  ?  What  have 
you  for  him,  the  spy,  the  informer,  the  hired 
traitor?  And  if  you  doubt,  if  you  want  evi- 
dence, look  at  him.  Only  look  at  him,  I  say ! " 
And  he  might  well  say  it !  For  I  stood  silent 


234  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

still ;  cowering  and  despairing,  white  with  rage 
and  hate.  But  Mademoiselle  did  not  look.  She 
gazed  straight  at  the  lieutenant.  "  Have  you 
done  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Done  ?  "  he  stammered.  Her  words,  her  air, 
brought  him  to  earth  again.  "  Done  ?  Yes,  if 
you  believe  me." 

"  I  do  not,"  she  answered  proudly.  "  If  that  be 
all,  be  satisfied,  Monsieur.  I  do  not  believe  you." 

"Then  tell  me,"  he  retorted,  after  a  moment  of 
stunned  surprise,  "why,  if  he  was  not  on  our 
side,  do  you  think  we  let  him  remain  here  ? 
Why  did  we  suffer  him  to  stay  in  a  suspected 
house  bullying  us,  and  taking  your  part  from 
hour  to  hour  ? " 

"  He  has  a  sword,  Monsieur,"  she  answered, 
with  fine  contempt. 

"  Mille  diables  /  "  he  cried,  snapping  his  fingers 
in  a  rage.  "  That  for  his  sword !  No.  It  was 
because  he  held  the  Cardinal's  commission ;  be- 
cause he  had  equal  authority  with  us;  because 
we  had  no  choice." 

"And  that  being  so,  Monsieur,  why  are  you 
now  betraying  him  ? "  she  asked  keenly. 


THE  ARREST.  235 

He  swore  at  that,  feeling  the  stroke  go  home. 
"You  must  be  mad,"  he  said,  glaring  at  her. 
"  Mad,  if  you  cannot  see  that  the  man  is  what 
I  tell  you  he  is.  Look  at  him !  Listen  to  him ! 
Has  he  a  word  to  say  for  himself  ? " 

Still  she  did  not  look.  "It  is  late,"  she 
replied,  coldly  and  irrelevantly.  "  And  I  am 
not  very  well.  If  you  have  quite  done,  perhaps 
you  will  leave  me,  Monsieur." 

"  Mon  Dieu!"  he  exclaimed,  shrugging  his 
shoulders ;  "  you  are  mad !  I  have  told  you  the 
truth,  and  you  will  not  believe  it.  Well,  on 
your  head  be  it  then,  Mademoiselle.  I  have  no 
more  to  say.  But  you  will  see." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  as  if  he 
thought  that  she  might  still  give  way ;  then  he 
saluted  her  roughly,  gave  the  word  to  the  ser- 
geant, turned,  and  went  down  the  path.  The 
sergeant  went  after  him,  the  lanthorn  swaying 
in  his  hand.  We  two  were  left  alone  in  the 
gloom.  The  frogs  were  croaking  in  the  pool; 
the  house,  the  garden,  the  wood,  —  all  lay  quiet 
under  the  darkness,  as  on  the  night  when  I 
first  came  to  the  Chateau. 


236  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

And  would  to  Heaven  I  had  never  come ! 
That  was  the  cry  in  my  heart.  Would  to  Heaven 
I  had  never  seen  this  woman,  whose  nobility 
an$  faith  and  singleness  were  a  continual 
shame  to  me ;  a  reproach,  branding  me  every 
hour  I  stood  in  her  presence,  with  all  vile  and 
hateful  names.  The  man  just  gone,  coarse,  low- 
bred, brutal  soldier  as  he  was,  man-flogger,  and 
drilling-block,  had  yet  found  heart  to  feel  my 
baseness,  and  words  in  which  to  denounce  it. 
What,  then,  would  she  say  when  the  truth  some 
day  came  home  to  her?  What  shape  should  I 
take  in  her  eyes  then  ?  How  should  I  be  remem- 
bered through  all  the  years  —  then  ? 

Then  ?  But  now  ?  What  was  she  thinking, 
now,  as  she  stood,  silent  and  absorbed,  by  the 
stone  seat,  a  shadowy  figure  with  face  turned 
from  me  ?  Was  she  recalling  the  man's  words, 
fitting  them  to  the  facts  and  the  past,  adding 
this  and  that  circumstance  ?  Was  she,  though 
she  had  rebuffed  him  in  the  body,  collating,  now 
he  was  gone,  all  he  had  said,  and  out  of  these 
scraps  piecing  together  the  damning  truth  ? 
The  thought  tortured  me.  I  could  brook  un- 


THE  ARREST.  237 

certainty  no  longer.  I  went  nearer  to  her  and 
touched  her  sleeve.  "  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  in 
a  voice  which  sounded  hoarse  and  forced  even 
in  my  own  ears,  "  do  you  believe  this  of  me  ? " 

She  started  violently  and  turned.  "  Pardon, 
Monsieur,"  she  answered.  "  I  had  forgotten 
that  you  were  here.  Do  I  believe — what?" 

"What  that  man  said  of  me,"  I  muttered. 

"  That ! "  she  exclaimed ;  and  she  stood  a 
moment  gazing  at  me  in  a  strange  fashion. 
"  Do  I  believe  what  he  said,  Monsieur !  But 
come,  come,"  she  continued,  "and  I  will  show 
you  if  I  believe  it.  But  not  here." 

She  led  the  way  on  the  instant  into  the  house, 
going  in  through  the  parlour  door,  which  stood 
half  open.  The  room  inside  was  pitch  dark, 
but  she  took  me  fearlessly  by  the  hand,  and  led 
me  quickly  through  it,  and  along  the  passage, 
until  we  came  to  the  cheerful  lighted  hall,  where 
a  great  fire  burned  on  the  hearth.  All  traces 
of  the  soldiers'  occupation  had  been  swept  away. 
But  the  room  was  empty. 

She  led  me  to  the  fire,  and  there,  in  the  full 
light,  no  longer  a  shadowy  creature,  but  red- 


238  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

lipped,  brilliant,  throbbing  with  life,  she  stood 
opposite  me,  her  eyes  shining,  her  colour  high, 
her  breast  heaving.  "  Do  I  believe  it  ? "  she  said. 
"  I  will  tell  you.  M.  de  Cocheforet's  hiding-place 
is  in  the  hut  behind  the  fern-stack,  two  furlongs 
beyond  the  village,  on  the  road  to  Auch.  You 
know  now  what  no  one  else  knows,  he  and  I  and 
Madame  excepted.  You  hold  in  your  hands  his 
life  and  my  honour;  and  you  know  also,  M.  de 
Berault,  whether  I  believed  that  tale." 

"  My  God ! "  I  cried.  And  I  stood  looking 
at  her,  until  something  of  the  horror  in  my  eyes 
crept  into  hers,  and  she  shuddered  and  stepped 
back. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ? "  she  whispered, 
clasping  her  hands.  And  with  all  the  colour 
gone  from  her  cheeks  she  peered  trembling  into 
the  corners  and  towards  the  door.  "There  is 
no  one  here.  Is  there  any  one  —  listening?" 

I  forced  myself  to  speak,  though  I  shook  all 
over,  like  a  man  in  an  ague.  "  No,  Mademoiselle, 
there  is  no  one  here,"  I  muttered.  And  then  I 
let  my  head  fall  on  my  breast,  and  I  stood  before 
her,  the  statue  of  despair.  Had  she  felt  a 


"My  God!"    I  cried. 


THE  ARREST.  239 

grain  of  suspicion,  a  grain  of  doubt,  my  bearing 
must  have  opened  her  eyes.  But  her  mind  was 
cast  in  so  noble  a  mould,  that  having  once 
thought  ill  of  me  and  been  converted,  she  could 
feel  no  doubt  again.  It  was  her  nature  to  trust 
all  in  all.  So,  a  little  recovered  from  her  fright, 
she  stood  looking  at  me  in  great  wonder;  and 
at  last  she  had  a  thought. 

"You  are  not  well?"  she  said  suddenly.  "It 
is  your  old  wound,  Monsieur." 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle,"  I  muttered  faintly.  "It 
is  my  old  wound." 

"  I  will  call  Clon ! "  she  cried  impetuously. 
And  then,  with  a  sob,  "Ah!  poor  Clon!  He 
is  gone.  But  there  is  Louis.  I  will  call  him, 
and  he  will  get  you  something." 

She  was  gone  from  the  room  before  I  could 
stop  her;  and  I  was  left  leaning  against  the 
table,  possessor  at  last  of  the  great  secret  which 
I  had  come  so  far  to  win.  Possessor  of  that 
secret,  and  able  in  a  moment  to  open  the  door, 
and  go  out  into  the  night,  and  make  use  of  it  — 
and  yet  the  most  unhappy  of  men.  The  sweat 
stood  on  my  brow,  my  eyes  wandered  round  the 


240  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

room ;  I  even  turned  towards  the  door,  with  some 
mad  thought  of  flight  —  flight  from  her,  from 
the  house,  from  everything.  And  God  knows 
if  I  might  not  have  chosen  that  course;  for  I  still 
stood  doubting,  when  on  the  door,  that  door, 
there  came  a  sudden  hurried  knocking  which 
jarred  every  nerve  in  my  body.  I  started.  I 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  gazing  at  the 
door,  as  at  a  ghost.  Then  glad  of  action,  glad 
of  anything  that  might  relieve  the  tension  of 
my  feelings,  I  strode  to  it,  and  pulled  it  sharply 
open. 

On  the  threshold,  his  flushed  face  lit  up  by 
the  light  behind  me,  stood  one  of  the  knaves  I 
had  brought  with  me  to  Auch.  He  had  been 
running,  and  panted  heavily,  but  he  had  kept  his 
wits.  He  grasped  my  sleeve  instantly.  "  Ah ! 
Monsieur,  the  very  man ! "  he  cried,  tugging  at 
me.  "  Quick !  come  this  instant,  and  you  may  yet 
be  first.  They  have  the  secret.  They  have 
found  Monsieur." 

"  Found  whom  ? "  I  echoed.  "  M.  de  Coche- 
foret>  " 

"  No ;    but    the   place   where   he   lies.     It   was 


THE  ARREST.  241 

found  by  accident.  The  lieutenant  was  gather- 
ing his  men  to  go  to  it  when  I  came  away. 
If  we  are  quick,  we  may  be  there  first." 

"  But  the  place  ?  "    I  said. 

"  I  could  not  hear  where  it  was,"  he  answered 
bluntly.  "  We  can  hang  on  their  skirts,  and  at 
the  last  moment  strike  in." 

The  pair  of  pistols  I  had  taken  from  the 
shock-headed  man  lay  on  a  chest  by  the  door. 
I  snatched  them  up,  and  my  hat,  and  joined  him 
without  another  word ;  and  in  a  moment  we  were 
running  down  the  garden.  I  looked  back  once 
before  we  passed  the  gate,  and  I  saw  the  light 
streaming  out  through  the  door  which  I  had 
left  open ;  and  I  fancied  that  for  an  instant  a 
figure  darkened  the  gap.  But  the  fancy  only 
strengthened  the  one  single  iron  purpose  which 
had  taken  possession  of  me  and  all  my  thoughts. 
I  must  be  first.  I  must  anticipate  the  lieu- 
tenant, and  make  the  arrest  myself.  I  ran  on 
only  the  faster. 

We  seemed  to  be  across  the  meadow  and  in 
the  wood  in  a  moment.  There,  instead  of  keep- 
ing along  the  common  path,  I  boldly  singled  out 


242  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

—  my  senses  seemed  preternaturally  keen  —  the 
smaller  track  by  which  Clon  had  brought  us,  and 
ran  unfaltering  along  it,  avoiding  logs  and  pitfalls 
as  by  instinct,  and  following  all  its  turns  and 
twists,  until  it  brought  us  to  the  back  of  the  inn, 
and  we  could  hear  the  murmur  of  subdued  voices 
in  the  village  street,  the  sharp  low  words  of  com- 
mand, and  even  the  clink  of  weapons ;  and  could 
see,  above  and  between  the  houses,  the  dull  glare 
of  lanthorns  and  torches. 

I  grasped  my  man's  arm  and  crouched  down, 
listening.  "  Where  is  your  mate  ?  "  I  said,  in  his 
ear. 

"With  them,"  he  muttered. 

"Then  come,"  I  whispered,  rising.  "I  have 
seen  enough.  Let  us  go." 

But  he  caught  me  by  the  arm  and  detained 
me.  "  You  don't  know  the  way ! "  he  hissed. 
"  Steady,  steady,  Monsieur.  You  go  too  fast. 
They  are  just  moving.  Let  us  join  them,  and 
strike  in  when  the  time  comes.  We  must  let 
them  guide  us." 

"  Fool ! "  I  said,  shaking  off  his  hand.  "  I 
tell  you,  I  know  where  he  is !  I  know  where 


THE  ARREST.  243 

they  are  going.  Come ;  lose  not  a  moment,  and 
we  will  pluck  the  fruit  while  they  are  on  the 
road  to  it." 

His  only  answer  was  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise ;  at  that  moment  the  lights  began  to  move. 
The  lieutenant  was  starting.  The  moon  was  not 
yet  up  ;  the  sky  was  grey  and  cloudy  ;  to  advance 
where  we  were  was  to  step  into  a  wall  of  black- 
ness. But  we  had  lost  too  much  time  already, 
and  I  did  not  hesitate.  Bidding  my  companion 
follow  me,  and  use  his  legs,  I  sprang  through 
a  low  fence  which  rose  before  us,  and  stumbling 
blindly  over  some  broken  ground  in  the  rear  of 
the  houses,  came,  with  a  fall  or  two,  to  a  little 
watercourse  with  steep  sides.  Through  this  I 
plunged  recklessly,  and  up  the  farther  side,  and, 
breathless  and  panting,  gained  the  road  just  be- 
yond the  village,  and  fifty  yards  in  advance  of 
the  lieutenant's  troop. 

They  had  only  two  lanthorns  burning  now,  and 
we  were  beyond  the  circle  of  light  these  cast ; 
while  the  steady  tramp  of  so  many  footsteps 
covered  the  noise  we  made.  We  were  unnoticed. 
In  a  twinkling  we  turned  our  backs,  and  as  fast 


244  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

as  we  could  ran  down  the  road.  Fortunately, 
they  were  thinking  more  of  secrecy  than  speed, 
and  in  a  minute  we  had  doubled  the  distance 
between  us ;  in  two  minutes  their  lights  were 
mere  sparks  shining  in  the  gloom  behind  us.  We 
lost,  at  last,  even  the  tramp  of  their  feet.  Then 
I  began  to  look  out  and  go  more  slowly ;  peering 
into  the  shadows  on  either  side  for  the  fern-stack. 

On  one  hand  the  hill  rose  steeply;  on  the 
other  it  fell  away  to  the  stream.  On  neither  side 
was  close  wood,  —  or  my  difficulties  had  been  im- 
mensely increased,  —  but  scattered  oak-trees  stood 
here  and  there  among  gorse  and  bracken.  This 
helped  me,  and  in  a  moment,  on  the  upper  side,  I 
came  upon  the  dense  substance  of  the  stack  loom- 
ing black  against  the  lighter  hill. 

My  heart  beat  fast,  but  it  was  no  time  for 
thought.  Bidding  the  man  in  a  whisper  to  follow 
me  and  be  ready  to  back  me  up,  I  climbed  the 
bank  softly,  and  with  a  pistol  in  my  hand,  felt 
my  way  to  the  rear  of  the  stack ;  thinking  to  find 
a  hut  there,  set  against  the  fern,  and  M.  de  Coche- 
foret  in  it.  But  I  found  no  hut.  There  was 
none ;  and  all  was  so  dark  that  it  came  upon  me 


THE  ARREST.  245 

suddenly  as  I  stood  between  the  hill  and  the  stack 
that  I  had  undertaken  a  very  difficult  thing.  The 
hut  behind  the  fern-stack  ?  But  how  far  behind  ? 
How '  far  from  it  ?  The  dark  slope  stretched 

above  us,  infinite,  immeasurable,  shrouded  in  night. 
\ 

To  begin  to  climb  it  in  search  of  a  tiny  hut, 
probably  well-hidden  and  hard  to  find  in  day- 
light, seemed  a  task  as  impossible  as  to  meet 
with  the  needle  in  the  hay !  And  now,  while  I 
stood,  chilled  and  doubting,  the  steps  of  the 
troop  in  the  road  began  to  grow  audible,  began 
to  come  nearer. 

"  Well,  M.  le  Capitaine  ? "  the  man  beside  me 
muttered  —  in  wonder  why  I  stood.  "  Which 
way  ?  Or  they  will  be  before  us  yet." 

I  tried  to  think,  to  reason  it  out;  to  consider 
where  the  hut  would  be ;  while  the  wind  sighed 
through  the  oaks,  and  here  and  there  I  could 
hear  an  acorn  fall.  But  the  thing  pressed  too 
close  on  me :  my  thoughts  would  not  be  hur- 
ried, and  at  last  I  said  at  a  'venture,  "  Up  the 
hill !  Straight  from  the  stack." 

He  did  not  demur,  and  we  plunged  at  the 
ascent,  knee  deep  in  bracken  and  furze,  sweat- 


246  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

ing  at  every  pore  with  our  exertions,  and  hearing 
the  troop  come  every  moment  nearer  on  the 
road  below.  Doubtless  they  knew  exactly  whither 
to  go !  Forced  to  stop  and  take  breath  when 
we  had  scrambled  up  fifty  yards  or  so,  I  saw 
their  lanthorns  shining  like  moving  glow-worms ; 
and  could  even  hear  the  clink  of  steel.  For  all 
I  could  tell,  the  hut  might  be  down  there,  and 
we  two  be  moving  from  it!  But  it  was  too  late 
to  go  back  now;  they  were  close  to  the  fern- 
stack  :  and  in  despair  I  turned  to  the  hill  again. 
A  dozen  steps,  and  I  stumbled.  I  rose  and 
plunged  on  again ;  again  I  stumbled.  Then  I 
found  that  I  was  no  longer  ascending.  I  was 
treading  level  earth.  And  —  was  it  water  I  saw 
before  me,  below  me,  a  little  in  front  of  my  feet, 
or  some  mirage  of  the  sky  ? 

Neither ;  and  I  gripped  my  fellow's  arm,  as  he 
came  abreast  of  me,  and  stopped  him  sharply. 
Below  us,  in  the  centre  of  a  steep  hollow,  a  pit 
in  the  hill-side,  a  light  shone  out  through  some 
aperture  and  quivered  on  the  mist,  like  the  pale 
lamp  of  a  moorland  hobgoblin.  It  made  itself 
visible,  displaying  nothing  else ;  a  wisp  of  light 
in  the  bottom  of  a  black  bowl. 


THE  ARREST.  247 

Yet  my  spirits  rose  with  a  great  bound  at  sight 
of  it,  for  I  knew  that  I  had  stumbled  on  the  place 
I  sought.  In  the  common  run  of  things  I  should 
have  weighed  my  next  step  carefully,  and  gone 
about  it  slowly.  But  here  was  no  place  for 
thought,  nor  room  for  delay,  and  I  slid  down 
the  side  of  the  hollow,  and  the  moment  my  feet 
touched  the  bottom,  sprang  to  the  door  of  the 
little  hut  whence  the  light  issued.  A  stone 
turned  under  my  foot  in  my  rush,  and  I  fell  on  my 
knees  on  the  threshold ;  but  the  fall  only  brought 
my  face  to  a  level  with  the  startled  eyes  of  the 
man  who  lay  inside  on  a  bed  of  fern.  He  had 
been  reading.  At  the  sound  I  made  he  dropped 
his  book,  and  stretched  out  his  hand  for  a 
weapon.  But  the  muzzle  of  my  pistol  covered 
him  before  he  could  reach  his;  he  was  not  in  a 
posture  from  which  he  could  spring,  and  at  a 
sharp  word  from  me  he  dropped  his  hand.  The 
tigerish  glare  which  had  flickered  for  an  instant 
in  his  eyes,  gave  place  to  a  languid  smile;  and 
he  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Eh,  bien?"  he 
said,  with  marvellous  composure.  "Taken  at 
last!  Well,  I  was  tired  of  it." 


248  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  You  are  my  prisoner,  M.  de  Cocheforet,"  I 
answered. 

"  It  seems  so,"  he  said. 

"  Move  a  hand,  and  I  kill  ,you,"  I  answered. 
"  But  you  have  still  a  choice." 

"  Truly  ? "  he  said,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"Yes.  My  orders  are  to  take  you  to  Paris 
alive  or  dead.  Give  me  your  parole  that  you 
will  make  no  attempt  to  escape,  and  you  shall 
go  thither  at  your  ease  and  as  a  gentleman. 
Refuse,  and  I  shall  disarm  and  bind  you,  and 
you  will  go  as  a  prisoner." 

"What  force  have  you?"  he  asked  curtly. 
He  had  not  moved.  He  still  lay  on  his  elbow, 
his  cloak  covering  him,  the  little  Marot  in  which 
he  had  been  reading  close  to  his  hand.  But  his 
quick,  black  eyes,  which  looked  the  keener  for 
the  pallor  and  thinness  of  his  face,  roved  cease- 
lessly over  me,  probed  the  darkness  behind  me, 
took  note  of  everything. 

"  Enough  to  compel  you,  Monsieur,"  I  replied 
sternly-.  "  But  that  is  not  all.  There  are  thirty 
dragoons  coming  up  the  hill  to  secure  you,  and 
they  will  make  you  no  such  offer.  Surrender 


THE  ARREST.  249 

to  me  before  they  come  and  give  me  your  parole, 
and  I  will  do  all  for  your  comfort.  Delay,  and 
you  will  fall  into  their  hands.  There  can  be 
no  escape." 

"You  will  take  my  word,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  Give  it,  and  you  may  keep  your  pistols,  M.  de 
Cocheforet,"  I  replied. 

"  Tell  me  at  least  that  you  are  not  alone." 

"  I  am  not  alone." 

"  Then  I  give  it,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh.  "  And 
for  Heaven's  sake  get  me  something  to  eat  and 
a  bed.  I  am  tired  of  this  pig-sty  —  and  this  life. 
Arnidieu  !  it  is  a  fortnight  since  I  slept  between 
sheets." 

"  You  shall  sleep  to-night  in  your  own  house 
if  you  please,"  I  answered  hurriedly.  "  But 
here  they  come.  Be  good  enough  to  stay  where 
you  are  a  moment,  and  I  will  meet  them." 

I  stepped  out  into  the  darkness,  in  the  nick 
of  time.  The  lieutenant,  after  posting  his  men 
round  the  hollow,  had  just  slid  down  with  a 
couple  of  sergeants  to  make  the  arrest.  The 
place  round  the  open  door  was  pitch  dark. 
He  had  not  espied  my  knave,  who  had  lodged 


250  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

himself  in  the  deepest  shadow  of  the  hut;  and 
when  he  saw  me  come  out  across  the  light,  he 
took  me  for  Cocheforet.  In  a  twinkling  he 
thrust  a  pistol  into  my  face,  and  cried  trium- 
phantly, "  You  are  my  prisoner !  "  At  the  same 
instant  one  of  the  sergeants  raised  a  lanthorn 
and  threw  its  light  into  my  eyes. 

"What  folly  is  this?"  I  said  savagely. 

The  lieutenant's  jaw  fell,  and  he  stood  for 
half  a  minute,  paralyzed  with  astonishment. 
Less  than  an  hour  before  he  had  left  me  at 
the  Chateau.  Thence  he  had  come  hither  with 
the  briefest  delay ;  and  yet  he  found  me  here  be- 
fore him  !  He  swore  fearfully,  his  face  dark,  his 
mustachios  stiff  with  rage.  "  What  is  this  ?  What 
is  it?"  he  cried  at  last.  "Where  is  the  man?" 

"  What  man  ?  "  I  said. 

"  This  Cocheforet !  "  he  roared,  carried  away 
by  his  passion.  "  Don't  lie  to  me !  He  is  here, 
and  I  will  have  him !  " 

"  You  will  not.  You  are  too  late ! "  I  said, 
watching  him  heedfully.  "  M.  de  Cocheforet  is 
here,  but  he  has  already  surrendered  to  me,  and 
he  is  my  prisoner." 


THE  ARREST.  2$  I 

"  Your  prisoner  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  prisoner !  "  I  answered,  facing  the 
man  with  all  the  harshness  I  could  muster.  "  I 
have  arrested  him  by  virtue  of  the  Cardinal's 
special  commission  granted  to  me.  And  by 
virtue  of  the  same  I  shall  keep  him  ! " 

He  glared  at  me  for  a  moment  in  utter  rage 
and  perplexity.  Then  on  a  sudden  I  saw  his  face 
lighten.  "  It  is  a  d — d  ruse  !  "  he  shouted,  bran- 
dishing his  pistol  like  a  madman.  "  It  is  a  cheat 
and  a  fraud  !  And  by  G — d  you  have  no  commis- 
sion !  I  see  through  it !  I  see  through  it  all ! 
You  have  come  here,  and  you  have  hocussed  us  ! 
You  are  of  their  side,  and  this  is  your  last  shift 
to  save  him  !  " 

"What  folly  is  this?"   I  exclaimed. 

"  No  folly  at  all ! "  he  answered,  conviction  in 
his  tone.  "  You  have  played  upon  us !  You 
have  fooled  us !  But  I  see  through  it  now ! 
An  hour  ago  I  exposed  you  to  that  fine  Madame 
at  the  house  there,  and  I  thought  it  a  marvel 
that  she  did  not  believe  me.  I  thought  it  a 
marvel  that  she  did  not  see  through  you,  when 
you  stood  there  before  her,  confounded,  tongue- 


252  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

tied,  a  rogue  convicted !  But  I  understand  it 

now.  She  knew  you  !  By ,  she  knew  you ! 

She  was  in  the  plot,  and  you  were  in  the  plot; 
and  I,  who  thought  I  was  opening  her  eyes, 
was  the  only  one  fooled !  But  it  is  my  turn 
now.  You  have  played  a  bold  part,  and  a  clever 
one,  and  I  congratulate  you !  But,"  he  continued, 
a  sinister  light  in  his  little  eyes,  "it  is  at  an 
end  now,  Monsieur  !  You  took  us  in  finely  with 
your  tale  of  Monseigneur,  and  his  commission, 
and  your  commission,  and  the  rest.  But  I  am 
not  to  be  blinded  any  longer,  or  bullied !  You 
have  arrested  him,  have  you  ?  You  have  arrested 
him !  Well,  by  G — d,  I  shall  arrest  him,  and  I 
shall  arrest  you  too !  " 

"  You  are  mad !  "  I  said,  staggered  as  much 
by  this  new  view  of  the  matter  as  by  his  perfect 
conviction  of  its  truth.  "  Mad,  Lieutenant !  " 

"  I  was  !  "  he  snarled  drily.  "  But  I  am  sane 
now.  I  was  mad  when  you  imposed  upon  us ; 
when  you  persuaded  me  that  you  were  fooling  the 
women  to  get  the  secret  out  of  them,  while  all 
the  time  you  were  sheltering  them,  protecting 
them,  aiding  them,  and  hiding  him — then  I  was 


THE  ARREST.  253 

mad  !  But  not  now.  However,  I  ask  your  par- 
don, M.  de  Barthe,  or  M.  de  Berault,  or  whatever 
your  name  really  is.  I  ask  your  pardon.  I 
thought  you  the  cleverest  sneak  and  the  dirtiest 
hound  heaven  ever  made,  or  hell  refused !  I  find 
that  you  were  cleverer  than  I  thought,  ajid  an 
honest  traitor.  Your  pardon." 

One  of  the  men  who  stood  about  the  rim  of 
the  bowl  above  us  laughed.  I  looked  at  the 
lieutenant,  and  could  willingly  have  killed  him. 
"  Mon  Dieu  !  "  I  said,  so  furious  in  my  turn  that 
I  could  scarcely  speak.  "  Do  you  say  that  I  am 
an  impostor  —  that  I  do  not  hold  the  Cardinal's 
commission  ? " 

"I  do  say  that!"  he  answered  coolly.  "And 
shall  abide  by  it." 

"  And  that  I  belong  to  the  rebel  party  ? " 

"  I  do,"  he  replied,  in  the  same  tone.  "  In 
fact,"  with  a  grin,  "  I  say  that  you  are  an  honest 
man  on  the  wrong  side,  M.  de  Berault.  And  you 
say  that  you  are  a  scoundrel  on  the  right.  The 
advantage,  however,  is  with  me,  and  I  shall  back 
my  opinion  by  arresting  you." 

A   ripple   of    coarse    laughter   ran    round    the 


254  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

hollow.  The  sergeant  who  held  the  lanthorn 
grinned,  and  a  trooper  at  a  distance  called  out 
of  the  darkness,  "  A  bon  chat  bon  rat !  "  This 
brought  a  fresh  burst  of  laughter,  while  I  stood 
speechless,  confounded  by  the  stubbornness,  the 
crassness,  the  insolence,  of  the  man.  "You  fool!'' 
I  cried  at  last,  "  you  fool ! "  And  then  M.  de 
Cocheforet,  who  had  come  out  of  the  hut,  and 
taken  his  stand  at  my  elbow,  interrupted  me. 

"  Pardon  me  one  moment,"  he  said  airily,  look- 
ing at  the  lieutenant,  with  raised  eyebrows,  and 
pointing  to  me  with  his  thumb.  "  But  I  am 
puzzled  between  you.  This  gentleman's  name  ? 
Is  it  de  Berault  or  de  Barthe  ?  " 

"I  am  M.  de  Berault,"  I  said  brusquely, 
answering  for  myself. 

"  Of  Paris  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  of  Paris." 

"  You  are  not  then  the  gentleman  who  has  been 
honouring  my  poor  house  with  his  presence?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  the  lieutenant  struck  in,  grinning. 
"  He  is  that  gentleman,  too  !  " 

"But  I  thought  —  I  understood  that  that  was 
M.  de  Barthe." 


THE  ARREST,  2$$ 

"I  am  M.  de  Barthe,  also,"  I  retorted  impa- 
tiently. "What  of  that,  Monsieur?  It  was  my 
mother's  name.  I  took  it  when  I  came  down 
here." 

"To  —  er,  to  arrest  me,  may  I  ask?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  doggedly.  "  To  arrest  you. 
What  of  that?" 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied  slowly  and  with  a  steady 
look  at  me,  a  look  I  could  not  meet.  "  Except 
that,  had  I  known  this  before,  M.  de  Berault,  I 
should  have  thought  long  before  I  surrendered 
to  you." 

The  lieutenant  laughed,  and  I  felt  my  cheek 
burn.  But  I  affected  to  see  nothing,  and  turned 
to  him  again.  "  Now,  Monsieur,"  I  said  sternly, 
"  are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"  No !  "  he  answered  point  blank.  "  I  am  not. 
You  two  gentlemen  may  have  rehearsed  this 
pretty  scene  a  dozen  times.  The  only  word  it 
seems  to  me,  is,  Quick  March,  back  to  Quarters." 

I  found  myself  driven  to  play  my  last  card  — 
much  against  my  will.  "  Not  so,"  I  said ;  "  I 
have  my  commission." 

"  Produce  it ! "  he  replied  brusquely. 


256  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

"Do  you  think  that  I  carry  it  with  me?"  I 
said,  in  scorn.  "  Do  you  think  that  when  I  came 
here,  alone,  and  not  with  fifty  dragoons  at  my 
back,  I  carried  the  Cardinal's  seal  in  my  pocket 
for  the  first  lackey  to  find  ?  But  you  shall  have 
it.  Where  is  that  knave  of  mine  ? " 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  my  mouth 
before  his  ready  hand  thrust  a  paper  into  my 
fingers.  I  opened  it  slowly,  glanced  at  it,  and 
amid  a  pause  of  surprise  gave  it  to  the  lieuten- 
ant. He  looked  for  a  moment  confounded.  He 
stared  at  it,  with  his  jaw  fallen.  Then  with  a 
last  instinct  of  suspicion  he  bade  the  sergeant 
hold  up  the  lanthorn,  and  by  its  light  proceeded 
to  spell  out  the  document. 

"  Umph ! "  he  ejaculated,  after  a  moment's 
silence ;  and  he  cast  an  ugly  look  at  me.  "  I 
see."  And  he  read  it  aloud. 

"By  these  presents  I  command  and  empower  Gilles  de 
Berault,  sieur  de  Berault,  to  seek  for,  hold,  arrest,  and  deliver 
to  the  Governor  of  the  Bastile  the  body  of  Henri  de  Cocheforet, 
and  to  do  all  such  acts  and  things  as  shall  be  necessary  to 
effect  such  arrest  and  delivery,  for  which  these  shall  be  his 
warrant. 

"  (Signed)          RICHELIEU,  Lieut.-Gen." 


"THE  ARREST.  257 

When  he  had  done, — and  he  read  the  signature 
with  a  peculiar  intonation,  —  some  one  said  softly, 
"  Vive  le  roi  /"  and  there  was  a  moment's  silence. 
The  sergeant  lowered  his  lanthorn.  "  Is  it 
enough  ? "  I  said  hoarsely,  glaring  from  face 
to  face. 

The  lieutenant  bowed  stiffly.  "  For  me  ? " 
he  said.  "  Quite,  Monsieur.  I  beg  your  pardon 
again.  I  find  that  my  first  impressions  were  the 
correct  ones.  Sergeant,  give  the  gentleman  his 
paper."  And  turning  his  shoulder  rudely,  he 
tossed  the  commission  towards  the  sergeant,  who 
picked  it  up,  and  gave  it  to  me,  grinning. 

I  knew  that  the  clown  would  not  fight,  and 
he  had  his  men  round  him;  and  I  had  no  choice 
but  to  swallow  the  insult.  As  I  put  the  paper 
in  my  breast,  with  as  much  indifference  as  I 
could  assume,  he  gave  a  sharp  order.  The 
troopers  began  to  form  on  the  edge  above,  the 
men  who  had  descended,  to  climb  the  bank.  As 
the  group  behind  him  began  to  open  and  melt 
away,  I  caught  sight  of  a  white  robe  in  the 
middle  of  it.  The  next  moment,  appearing  with 
a  suddenness  which  was  like  a  blow  on  the  cheek 

s 


258  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

to  me,  Mademoiselle  de  Cocheforet  glided  for- 
ward, and  came  towards  me.  She  had  a  hood 
on  her  head,  drawn  low;  and  for  a  moment  I 
could  not  see  her  face.  I  forgot  her  brother's 
presence  at  my  elbow ;  from  habit  and  impulse 
rather  than  calculation,  I  took  a  step  forward 
to  meet  her —  though  my  tongue  cleaved  to  the 
roof  of  my  mouth,  and  I  was  dumb  and  trem- 
bling. 

But  she  recoiled  with  such  a  look  of  white 
hate,  of  staring,  frozen-eyed  loathing,  that  I 
stepped  back  as  if  she  had  indeed  struck  me.  It 
did  not  need  the  words  which  accompanied  the 
look,  the  " Do  not  touch  me!"  which  she  hissed 
at  me  as  she  drew  her  skirts  together,  to  drive 
me  to  the  farther  edge  of  the  hollow;  there  to 
stand  with  clenched  teeth  and  nails  driven  into 
the  flesh  while  she  hung,  sobbing  tearless  sobs, 
on  her  brother's  neck. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE   ROAD   TO   PARIS. 

I  REMEMBER  hearing  Marshal  Bassompierre, 
who,  of  all  men  within  my  knowledge,  had  the 
widest  experience,  say  that  not  dangers,  but  dis- 
comforts, prove  a  man,  and  show  what  he  is; 
and  that  the  worst  sores  in  life  are  caused  by 
crumpled  rose-leaves  and  not  by  thorns. 

I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  this.  For  I  remem- 
ber that  when  I  came  from  my  room  on  the 
morning  after  the  arrest,  and  found  hall  and 
parlour  and  passage  empty,  and  all  the  common 
rooms  of  the  house  deserted,  and  no  meal  laid, 
and  when  I  divined  anew  from  this  discovery 
the  feeling  of  the  house  towards  me,  —  however 
natural  and  to  be  expected,  —  I  felt  as  sharp  a 
pang  as  when,  the  night  before,  I  had  had  to 
face  discovery  and  open  rage  and  scorn.  I  stood 
in  the  silent,  empty  parlour,  and  looked  round 
259  s  2 


260  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

me  with  a  sense  of  desolation ;  of  something  lost 
and  gone,  which  I  could  not  replace.  The  morn- 
ing was  grey  and  cloudy,  the  air  sharp ;  a  shower 
was  falling.  The  rose-bushes  at  the  window 
swayed  in  the  wind,  and  where  I  could  remember 
the  hot  sunshine  lying  on  floor  and  table,  the 
rain  beat  in  and  stained  the  boards.  The  main 
door  flapped  and  creaked  to  and  fro.  I  thought 
of  other  days  and  meals  I  had  taken  there,  and 
of  the  scent  of  flowers,  and  I  fled  to  the  hall 
in  despair. 

But  here,  too,  was  no  sign  of  life  or  company, 
no  comfort,  no  attendance.  The  ashes  of  the 
logs,  by  whose  blaze  Mademoiselle  had  told  me 
the  secret,  lay  on  the  hearth  white  and  cold ; 
and  now  and  then  a  drop  of  moisture,  sliding 
down  the  great  chimney,  pattered  among  them. 
The  great  door  stood  open  as  if  the  house  had 
no  longer  anything  to  guard.  The  only  living 
thing  to  be  seen  was  a  hound  which  roamed 
about  restlessly,  now  gazing  at  the  empty  hearth, 
now  lying  down  with  pricked  ears  and  watchful 
eyes.  Some  leaves  which  had  been  blown  in 
rustled  in  a  corner. 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  261 

I  went  out  moodily  into  the  garden,  and  wan- 
dered down  one  path,  and  up  another,  looking 
at  the  dripping  woods  and  remembering  things, 
until  I  came  to  the  stone  seat.  On  it,  against 
the  wall,  trickling  with  rain-drops,  and  with  a  dead 
leaf  half  filling  its  narrow  neck,  stood  the  pitcher 
of  food.  I  thought  how  much  had  happened 
since  Mademoiselle  took  her  hand  off  it  and 
the  sergeant's  lanthorn  disclosed  it  to  me.  And 
sighing  grimly,  I  went  in  again  through  the  par- 
lour door. 

A  woman  was  on  her  knees,  kindling  the  be- 
lated fire.  I  stood  a  moment,  looking  at  her 
doubtfully,  wondering  how  she  would  bear  her- 
self, and  what  she  would  say  to  me:  and  then 
she  turned,  and  I  cried  out  her  name  in  horror ; 
for  it  was  Madame  ! 

She  was  very  plainly  dressed ;  her  childish 
face  was  wan,  and  piteous  with  weeping.  But 
either  the  night  had  worn  out  her  passion  and 
drained  her  tears,  or  this  great  exigency  gave 
her  temporary  calmness;  for  she  was  perfectly 
composed.  She  shivered  as  her  eyes  met  mine, 
and  she  blinked  as  if  a  light  had  been  suddenly 


262  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

thrust  before  her.  But  she  turned  again  to  her 
task,  without  speaking. 

"  Madame !  Madame !  "  I  cried,  in  a  frenzy  of 
distress.  "What  is  this?" 

"  The  servants  would  not  do  it,"  she  answered, 
in  a  low  but  steady  voice.  "You  are  still  our 
guest,  Monsieur,  and  it  must  be  done." 

"  But  —  I  cannot  suffer  it !  "  I  cried,  in  misery. 
"Madame  de  Cocheforet,  I  will —  I  would 
rather  do  it  myself !  " 

She  raised  her  hand,  with  a  strange,  patient 
expression  on  her  face.  "  Hush,  please,"  she 
said.  "  Hush !  you  trouble  me." 

The  fire  took  light  and  blazed  up  as  she  spoke, 
and  she  rose  slowly  from  it,  and,  with  a  lingering 
look  at  it,  went  out ;  leaving  me  to  stand  and 
stare  and  listen  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  Pres- 
ently I  heard  her  coming  back  along  the  pas- 
sage, and  she  entered,  bearing  a  tray  with  wine 
and  meat  and  bread.  She  set  it  down  on  the 
table,  and  with  the  same  wan  face,  trembling 
always  on  the  verge  of  tears,  she  began  to  lay 
out  the  things.  The  glasses  clinked  pitifully 
against  the  plates  as  she  handled  them;  the 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  263 

knives  jarred  with  one  another;  and  I  stood  by, 
trembling  myself,  and  endured  this  strange,  this 
awful  penance. 

She  signed  to  me  at  last  to  sit  down  and  eat; 
and  she  went  herself,  and  stood  in  the  garden 
doorway,  with  her  back  to  me.  I  obeyed.  I  sat 
down ;  but  though  I  had  eaten  nothing  since  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  before,  and  a  little  earlier 
had  had  appetite  enough,  I  could  not  swallow. 
I  fumbled  with  my  knife,  and  munched  and 
drank;  and  grew  hot  and  angry  at  this  farce; 
and  then  looked  through  the  window  at  the  drip- 
ping bushes,  and  the  rain,  and  the  distant  sun- 
dial, and  grew  cold  again. 

Suddenly  she  turned  round  and  came  to  my 
side.  "You  do  not  eat,"  she  said. 

I  threw  down  my  knife,  and  sprang  up  in  a 
frenzy  of  passion.  " Mon  Dieu !  Madame!"  I 
cried.  "  Do  you  think  I  have  no  heart  ? " 

And  then  in  a  moment  I  knew  what  I  had 
done.  In  a  moment  she  was  on  her  knees  on 
the  floor,  clasping  my  knees,  pressing  her  wet 
cheeks  to  my  rough  clothes,  crying  to  me  for 
mercy  —  for  life  !  life  !  life  !  his  life !  Oh,  it 


264  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

was  horrible !  It  was  horrible  to  see  her  fair 
hair  falling  over  my  mud-stained  boots,  to  see 
her  slender  little  form  convulsed  with  sobs,  to 
feel  that  this  was  a  woman,  a  gentlewoman,  who 
thus  abased  herself  at  my  feet. 

"  Oh,  Madame  !  Madame !  "  I  cried,  in  my  agony, 
"  I  beg  you  to  rise.  Rise,  or  I  must  go !  You 
will  drive  me  out !  "  .-;  I 

"  Grant  me  his  life  !  "  she  moaned  passionately. 
"  Only  his  life  !  What  had  he  done  to  you,  that 
you  should  hunt  him  down  ?  What  had  we  done 
to  you,  that  you  should  slay  us  ?  Ah,  Sir,  have 
mercy !  Let  him  go,  and  we  will  pray  for  you ;  I 
and  my  sister  will  pray  for  you  every  morning  and 
night  of  our  lives." 

I  was  in  terror  lest  some  one  should  come  and 
see  her  lying  there,  and  I  stooped  and  tried  to 
raise  her.  But  she  would  not  rise ;  she  only  sank 
the  lower  until  her  tender  hands  clasped  my  spurs, 
and  I  dared  not  move.  Then  I  took  a  sudden 
resolution.  "  Listen  then,  Madame,"  I  said,  almost 
sternly,  "  if  you  will  not  rise.  When  you  ask  what 
you  do,  you  forget  how  I  stand,  and  how  small  my 
power  is !  You  forget  that  were  I  to  release  your 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  265 

husband  to-day,  he  would  be  seized  within  the 
hour  by  those  who  are  still  in  the  village,  and  who 
are  watching  every  road  —  who  have  not  ceased 
to  suspect  my  movements  and  my  intentions. 
You  forget,  I  say,  my  circumstances  —  "  , 

She  cut  me  short  on  that  word.  She  sprang 
abruptly  to  her  feet  and  faced  me.  One  moment, 
and  I  should  have  said  something  to  the  purpose. 
But  at  that  word  she  was  before  me,  white,  breath- 
less, dishevelled,  struggling  for  speech.  "  Oh 
yes,  yes,"  she  panted  eagerly,  "I  know!  I  under- 
stand !  "  And  she  thrust  her  hand  into  her  bosom 
and  plucked  something  out  and  gave  it  to  me  — 
forced  it  upon  me  into  my  hands.  "  I  know !  I 
know !  "  she  said  again.  "  Take  it,  and  God  re- 
ward you,  Monsieur!  We  give  it  freely  —  freely 
and  thankfully  !  And  may  God  bless  you !  " 

I  stood  and  looked  at  her,  and  looked  at  it,  and 
slowly  froze.  She  had  given  me  the  packet  —  the 
packet  I  had  restored  to  Mademoiselle,  the  parcel 
of  jewels.  I  weighed  it  in  my  hands,  and  my 
heart  grew  hard  again,  for  I  knew  that  this  was 
Mademoiselle's  doing;  that  it  was  she  who,  mis- 
trusting the  effect  of  Madame's  tears  and  prayers, 


266  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

had  armed  her  with  this  last  weapon  —  this  dirty 
bribe.  I  flung  it  down  on  the  table  among  the 
plates,  all  my  pity  changed  to  anger.  "  Madame," 
I  cried  ruthlessly,  "you  mistake  me  altogether. 
I  have  heard  hard  words  enough  in  the  last 
twenty-four  hours,  and  I  know  what  you  think 
of  me !  But  you  have  yet  to  learn  that  I  have 
never  turned  traitor  to  the  hand  that  employed 
me,  nor  sold  my  own  side !  When  I  do  so  for  a 
treasure  ten  times  the  worth  of  that,  may  my  hand 
rot  off!" 

She  sank  into  a  seat,  with  a  moan  of  despair, 
and  at  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  M.  de 
Cocheforet  came  in.  Over  his  shoulder  I  had  a 
glimpse  of  Mademoiselle's  proud  face,  a  little 
whiter  to-day,  with  dark  marks  under  the  eyes, 
but  still  firm  and  cold.  "  What  is  this  ?  "  he  said, 
frowning  and  stopping  short  as  his  eyes  lighted 
on  Madame. 

"  It  is  —  that  we  start  at  eleven  o'clock,  Mon- 
sieur," I  answered,  bowing  curtly.  "  Those,  I 
fancy,  are  your  property."  And  pointing  to  the 
jewels,  I  went  out  by  the  other  door. 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  267 

That  I  might  not  be  present  at  their  parting,  I 
remained  in  the  garden  until  the  hour  I  had  ap- 
pointed was  well  passed;  then  without  entering 
the  house  I  went  to  the  stable  entrance.  Here  I 
found  all  ready,  the  two  troopers  (whose  company 
I  had  requisitioned  as  far  as  Auch)  already  in  the 
saddle,  my  own  two  knaves  waiting  with  my  sorrel 
and  M.  de  Cocheforet's  chestnut.  Another  horse 
was  being  led  up  and  down  by  Louis,  and,  alas, 
my  heart  winced  at  the  sight.  For  it  bore  a  lady's 
saddle,  and  I  saw  that  we  were  to  have  company. 
Was  it  Madame  who  meant  to  come  with  us  ?  or 
Mademoiselle  ?  And  how  far  ?  To  Auch  ?  or 
farther  ? 

I  suppose  that  they  had  set  some  kind  of  a 
watch  on  me ;  for,  as  I  walked  up,  M.  de  Coche- 
f oret  and  his  sister  came  out  of  the  house,  —  he 
looking  white,  with  bright  eyes  and  a  twitching 
in  his  cheek,  though  through  all  he  affected  a 
jaunty  bearing;  she  wearing  a  black  mask. 

"  Mademoiselle  accompanies  us  ? "  I  said  for- 
mally. 

"With  your  permission,  Monsieur,"  he  an- 
swered, with  grim  politeness.  But  I  saw  that 


268  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

he  was  choking  with  emotion.  I  guessed  that  he 
had  just  parted  from  his  wife,  and  I  turned  away. 

When  we  were  all  mounted,  he  looked  at  me. 
"  Perhaps,  as  you  have  my  parole,  you  will  permit 
me  to  ride  alone,"  he  said,  with  a  little  hesitation, 
"and  —  " 

"Without  me!"  I  rejoined  keenly.  "Assuredly, 
so  far  as  is  possible."  I  directed  the  troopers 
to  ride  in  front  and  keep  out  of  ear-shot;  my 
two  men  followed  the  prisoner  at  a  like  distance, 
with  their  carbines  on  their  knees.  Last  of  all 
I  rode  myself,  with  my  eyes  open  and  a  pistol 
loose  in  my  holster.  M.  de  Cocheforet,  I  saw, 
was  inclined  to  sneer  at  so  many  precautions, 
and  the  mountain  made  of  his  request;  but  I 
had  not  done  so  much  and  come  so  far,  I  had 
not  faced  scorn  and  insults,  to  be  cheated  of  my 
prize  at  last.  Aware  that  until  we  were  beyond 
Auch  there  must  be  hourly  and  pressing  danger 
of  a  rescue,  I  was  determined  that  he  who  would 
wrest  my  prisoner  from  me  should  pay  dearly 
for  it.  Only  pride,  and,  perhaps,  in  a  degree 
also,  appetite  for  a  fight,  had  prevented  me 
borrowing  ten  troopers  instead  of  two. 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  269 

We  started,  and  I  looked  with  a  lingering  eye 
and  many  memories  at  the  little  bridge,  the  nar- 
row woodland  path,  the  first  roofs  of  the  village ; 
all  now  familiar,  all  seen  for  the  last  time.  Up 
the  brook  a  party  of  soldiers  were  dragging  for 
the  captain's  body.  A  furlong  farther  on,  a 
cottage,  burned  by  some  carelessness  in  the 
night,  lay  a  heap  of  black  ashes.  Louis  ran 
beside  us,  weeping ;  the  last  brown  leaves  flut- 
tered down  in  showers.  And  between  my  eyes 
and  all,  the  slow,  steady  rain  fell  and  fell  and 
fell.  And  so  I  left  Cocheforet. 

Louis  went  with  us  to  a  point  a  mile  beyond 
the  village,  and  there  stood  and  saw  us  go,  curs- 
ing me  furiously  as  I  passed.  Looking  back 
when  we  had  ridden  on,  I  still  saw  him  standing; 
and  after  a  moment's  hesitation  I  rode  back  to 
him.  "  Listen,  fool,"  I  said,  cutting  him  short 
in  the  midst  of  his  mowing  and  snarling,  "and 
give  this  message  to  your  mistress.  Tell  her 
from  me  that  it  will  be  with  her  husband  as 
it  was  with  M.  de  Regnier,  when  he  fell  into 
the  hands  of  his  enemy  —  no  better  and  no 
worse." 


270  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  You  want  to  kill  her,  too,  I  suppose  ? "  he 
answered,  glowering  at  me. 

"  No,  fool !  I  want  to  save  her ! "  I  retorted 
wrathfully.  "Tell  her  that,  just  that  and  no 
more,  and  you  will  see  the  result." 

"  I  shall  not,"  he  said  sullenly.  "  I  shall  not 
tell  her.  A  message  from  you,  indeed !  "  And 
he  spat  on  the  ground. 

"Then  on  your  head  be  it!"  I  answered  sol- 
emnly. And  I  turned  my  horse's  head  and  gal- 
loped fast  after  the  others.  For,  in  spite  of  his 
refusal,  I  felt  sure  that  he  would  report  what  I 
had  said  —  if  it  were  only  out  of  curiosity;  and 
it  would  be  strange  if  Madame  did  not  understand 
the  reference. 

And  so  we  began  our  journey;  sadly,  under 
dripping  trees  and  a  leaden  sky.  The  country 
we  had  to  traverse  was  the  same  I  had  trodden 
on  the  last  day  of  my  march  southwards,  but  the 
passage  of  a  month  had  changed  the  face  of 
everything.  Green  dells,  where  springs  welling 
out  of  the  chalk  had  made  of  the  leafy  bottom 
a  fairies'  home,  strewn  with  delicate  ferns  and 
hung  with  mosses  —  these  were  now  swamps  into 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  2JI 

which  our  horses  sank  to  the  fetlock.  Sunny 
brows,  whence  I  had  viewed  the  champaign  and 
traced  my  forward  path,  had  become  bare,  wind- 
swept ridges.  The  beech  woods,  which  had 
glowed  with  ruddy  light,  were  naked  now;  mere 
black  trunks  and  rigid  arms  pointing  to  heaven. 
An  earthy  smell  filled  the  air;  a  hundred  paces 
away  a  wall  of  mist  closed  the  view.  We  plodded 
on  sadly,  up  hill  and  down*  hill ;  now  fording 
brooks  already  stained  with  flood-water,  now 
crossing  barren  heaths. 

But  up  hill  or  down  hill,  whatever  the  outlook, 
I  was  never  permitted  to  forget  that  I  was  the 
jailer,  the  ogre,  the  villain ;  that  I,  riding  behind 
in  my  loneliness,  was  the  blight  on  all,  the  death- 
spot.  True,  I  was  behind  the  others ;  I  escaped 
their  eyes.  But  there  was  not  a  line  of  Mademoi- 
selle's drooping  figure  that  did  not  speak  scorn  to 
me,  not  a  turn  of  her  head  that  did  not  seem  to 
say,  "  Oh  God,  that  such  a  thing  should  breathe !  " 

I  had  only  speech  with  her  once  during  the 
day,  and  that  was  on  the  last  ridge  before  we 
went  down  into  the  valley  to  climb  up  again  to 
Auch.  The  rain  had  ceased;  the  sun,  near  its 


2/2  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

setting,  shone  faintly ;  and  for  a  few  moments  we 
stood  on  the  brow  and  looked  southwards  while 
we  breathed  the  horses.  The  mist  lay  like  a 
pall  on  all  the  country  we  had  traversed;  but 
beyond  it  and  above  it,  gleaming  pearl-like  in 
the  level  rays,  the  line  of  the  mountains  stood 
up  like  a  land  of  enchantment,  soft,  radiant,  won- 
derful, or  like  one  of  those  castles  on  the  Hill 
of  Glass  of  which  the  old  romances  tell  us. 
I  forgot,  for  an  instant,  how  we  were  placed, 
and  I  cried  to  my  neighbour  that  it  was  the 
fairest  pageant  I  had  ever  seen. 

She  —  it  was  Mademoiselle,  and  she  had  taken 
off  her  mask — cast  one  look  at  me;  only  one, 
but  it  conveyed  disgust  and  loathing  so  unspeak- 
able that  scorn  beside  them  would  have  been 
a  gift.  I  reined  in  my  horse  as  if  she  had  struck 
me,  and  felt  myself  go  first  hot  and  then  cold 
under  her  eyes.  Then  she  looked  another  way. 

I  did  not  forget  the  lesson ;  after  that  I  avoided 
her  more  sedulously  than  before.  We  lay  that 
night  at  Auch,  and  I  gave  M.  de  Cocheforet  the 
utmost  liberty ;  even  permitting  him  to  go  out 
and  return  at  his  will.  In  the  morning,  believing 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  273 

that  on  the  farther  side  of  Auch  we  ran  less  risk 
of  attack,  I  dismissed  the  two  dragoons,  and 
an  hour  after  sunrise  we  set  out  again.  The 
day  was  dry  and  cold,  the  weather  more  prom- 
ising. I  planned  to  go  by  way  of  Lectoure, 
crossing  the  Garonne  at  Agen ;  and  I  thought 
with  roads  continually  improving  as  we  moved 
northwards,  we  should  be  able  to  make  good 
progress  before  night.  My  two  men  rode  first; 
I  came  last  by  myself. 

Our  way  lay  for  some  hours  down  the  valley 
of  the  Gers,  under  poplars  and  by  long  rows  of 
willows;  and  presently  the  sun  came  out  and 
warmed  us.  Unfortunately,  the  rain  of  the  day 
before  had  swollen  the  brooks  which  crossed  our 
path,  and  we  more  than  once  had  a  difficulty 
in  fording  them.  Noon,  therefore,  found  us  lit- 
tle more  than  half-way  to  Lectoure,  and  I  was 
growing  each  minute  more  impatient,  when  our 
road,  which  had  for  a  little  while  left  the  river 
bank,  dropped  down  to  it  again,  and  I  saw  before 
us  another  crossing,  half  ford,  half  slough.  My 
men  tried  it  gingerly,  and  gave  back,  and  tried 
it  again  in  another  place ;  and  finally,  just  as 


2/4  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

Mademoiselle  and  Monsieur  came  up  to  them, 
floundered  through  and  sprang  slantwise  up  the 
farther  bank. 

The  delay  had  been  long  enough  to  bring  me, 
with  no  good  will  of  my  own,  close  up  to  the 
Cocheforets.  Mademoiselle's  horse  made  a  little 
business  of  the  place;  this  delayed  them  still 
longer,  and  in  the  result,  we  entered  the  water 
almost  together,  and  I  crossed  close  on  her  heels. 
The  bank  on  either  side  was  steep ;  while  cross- 
ing we  could  see  neither  before  nor  behind.  At 
the  moment,  however,  I  thought  nothing  of  this, 
nor  of  her  delay,  and  I  was  following  her  quite 
at  my  leisure,  when  the  sudden  report  of  a  car- 
bine, a  second  report,  and  a  yell  of  alarm  in 
front,  thrilled  me  through. 

On  the  instant,  while  the  sound  was  still  in  my 
ears,  I  saw  it  all.  Like  a  hot  iron  piercing  my 
brain,  the  truth  flashed  into  my  mind.  We  were 
attacked !  We  were  attacked,  and  I  was  here 
helpless  in  this  pit,  this  trap !  The  loss  of  a 
second  while  I  fumbled  here,  Mademoiselle's 
horse  barring  the  way,  might  be  fatal. 

There  was  but  one  way.     I  turned  my  horse 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  2/5 

straight  at  the  steep  bank,  and  he  breasted  it. 
One  moment  he  hung  as  if  he  must  fall  back. 
Then,  with  a  snort  of  terror  and  a  desperate 
bound,  he  topped  it,  and  gained  the  level,  trem- 
bling and  snorting. 

It  was  as  I  had  guessed.  Seventy  paces  away 
on  the  road  lay  one  of  my  men.  He  had  fallen, 
horse  and  man,  and  lay  still.  Near  him,  with 
his  back  against  a  bank,  stood  his  fellow,  on  foot, 
pressed  by  four  horsemen,  and  shouting.  As 
my  eye  lighted  on  the  scene,  he  let  fly  with  a 
carbine  and  dropped  one. 

I  snatched  a  pistol  from  my  holster,  cocked  it, 
and  seized  my  horse  by  the  head  —  I  might  save 
the  man  yet.  I  shouted  to  encourage  him,  and 
in  another  second  should  have  charged  into  the 
fight,  when  a  sudden  vicious  blow,  swift  and 
unexpected,  struck  the  pistol  from  my  hand. 

I  made  a  snatch  at  it  as  it  fell,  but  missed  it ; 
and  before  I  could  recover  myself,  Mademoiselle 
thrust  her  horse  furiously  against  mine,  and  with 
her  riding-whip,  lashed  the  sorrel  across  the  ears. 
As  my  horse  reared  madly  up,  I  had  a  glimpse 
of  her  eyes  flashing  hate  through  her  mask;  of 

T  2 


2?6  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

her  hand  again  uplifted ;  the  next  moment,  I  was 
down  in  the  road,  ingloriously  unhorsed,  the 
sorrel  was  galloping  away,  and  her  horse,  scared 
in  its  turn,  was  plunging  unmanageably  a  score 
of  paces  from  me. 

I  don't  doubt  that  but  for  that  she  would  have 
trampled  on  me.  As  it  was,  I  was  free  to  draw ; 
and  in  a  twinkling  I  was  running  towards  the 
fighters.  All  I  have  described  had  happened  in 
a  few  seconds.  My  man  was  still  defending 
himself;  the  smoke  of  the  carbine  had  scarcely 
risen.  I  sprang  with  a  shout  across  a  fallen  tree 
that  intervened ;  at  the  same  moment,  two  of  the 
men  detached  themselves,  and  rode  to  meet  me. 
One,  whom  I  took  to  be  the  leader,  was  masked. 
He  came  furiously  at  me,  trying  to  ride  me  down; 
but  I  leaped  aside  nimbly,  and  evading  him, 
rushed  at  the  other,  and  scaring  his  horse,  so 
that  he  dropped  his  point,  cut  him  across  the 
shoulder  before  he  could  guard  himself.  He 
plunged  away,  cursing,  and  trying  to  hold  in  his 
horse,  and  I  turned  to  meet  the  masked  man. 

"  You  double-dyed  villain ! "  he  cried,  riding  at 
me  again.  And  this  time  he  manoeuvred  his 


•J. 


"  You  villain  !  "    he  cried,  riding  at  me  again. 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  277 

horse  so  skilfully  that  I  was  hard  put  to  it  to 
prevent  him  knocking  me  down ;  and  could  not 
with  all  my  efforts  reach  him  to  hurt  him.  "  Sur- 
render, will  you!"  he  continued,  "you  blood- 
hound !  " 

I  wounded  him  slightly  in  the  knee  for  answer ; 
but  before  I  could  do  more  his  companion  came 
back,  and  the  two  set  upon  me  with  a  will,  slash- 
ing at  my  head  so  furiously  and  towering  above 
me  with  so  great  an  advantage  that  it  was  all  I 
could  do  to  guard  myself.  I  was  soon  glad  to 
fall  back  against  the  bank  —  as  my  man  had 
done  before  me.  In  such  a  conflict  my  rapier 
would  have  been  of  little  use,  but  fortunately  I 
had  armed  myself  before  I  left  Paris  with  a  cut- 
and-thrust  sword  for  the  road;  and  though  my 
mastery  of  the  weapon  was  not  on  a  par  with 
my  rapier-play,  I  was  able  to  fend  off  their  cuts, 
and  by  an  occasional  prick  keep  the  horses  at  a 
distance.  Still  they  swore  and  cut  at  me,  trying 
to  wear  me  out ;  and  it  was  trying  work.  A  little 
delay,  the  least  accident,  might  enable  the  other 
man  to  come  to  their  help,  or  Mademoiselle,  for 
all  I  knew,  might  shoot  me  with  my  own  pistol ; 


2/8  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

and  I  confess,  I  was  unfeignedly  glad  when  a 
lucky  parade  sent  the  masked  man's  sword  flying 
across  the  road.  He  was  no  coward ;  for  unarmed 
as  he  was,  he  pushed  his  horse  at  me,  spurring 
it  recklessly ;  but  the  animal,  which  I  had  several 
times  touched,  reared  up  instead  and  threw  him 
at  the  very  moment  that  I  wounded  his  compan- 
ion a  second  time  in  the  arm,  and  made  him 
give  back. 

This  quite  changed  the  scene.  The  man  in  the 
mask  staggered  to  his  feet,  and  felt  stupidly  for 
a  pistol.  But  he  could  not  find  one,  and  was,  I 
saw,  in  no  state  to  use  it  if  he  had.  He  reeled 
helplessly  to  the  bank,  and  leaned  against  it.  He 
would  give  no  further  trouble.  The  man  I  had 
wounded  was  in  scarcely  better  condition.  He 
retreated  before  me  for  some  paces,  but  then 
losing  courage,  he  dropped  his  sword,  and,  wheel- 
ing round,  cantered  off  down  the  road,  clinging  to 
his  pommel.  There  remained  only  the  fellow 
engaged  with  my  man,  and  I  turned  to  see  how 
they  were  getting  on.  They  were  standing  to 
take  breath,  so  I  ran  towards  them ;  but,  seeing 
me  coming,  this  rascal,  too,  whipped  round  his 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS. 


horse,  and  disappeared  in  the  wood,  and  left  us 
masters  of  the  field.  The  first  thing  I  did  —  and 
I  remember  it  to  this  day  with  pleasure  —  was  to 
plunge  my  hand  into  my  pocket,  take  out  half  the 
money  I  had  in  the  world,  and  press  it  on  the  man 
who  had  fought  for  me  so  stoutly,  and  who  had 
certainly  saved  me  from  disaster.  In  my  joy  I 
could  have  kissed  him  !  It  was  not  only  that  I  had 
escaped  defeat  by  the  skin  of  my  teeth,  —  and  his 
good  sword,  —  but  I  knew,  and  thrilled  with  the 
knowledge,  that  the  fight  had  altered  the  whole 
position.  He  was  wounded  in  two  places,  and  I 
had  a  scratch  or  two,  and  had  lost  my  horse  ;  and 
my  other  poor  fellow  was  dead  as  a  herring.  But 
speaking  for  myself,  I  would  have  spent  half  the 
blood  in  my  body  to  purchase  the  feeling  with 
which  I  turned  back  to  speak  to  M.  de  Cocheforet 
and  his  sister.  I  had  fought  before  them. 

Mademoiselle  had  dismounted,  and  with  her 
face  averted  and  her  mask  pushed  on  one  side,  was 
openly  weeping.  Her  brother,  who  had  scrupu- 
lously kept  his  place  by  the  ford  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  fight  to  the  end,  met  me  with  raised 
eyebrows  and  a  peculiar  smile,  "Acknowledge 


280  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

my  virtue,"  he  said  airily.  "  I  am  here,  M.  ch 
Berault  —  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  the 
two  gentlemen  who  have  just  ridden  off." 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  with  a  touch  of  bitterness. 
"  I  wish  they  had  not  shot  my  poor  man  before 
they  went." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "They  were  my 
friends,"  he  said.  "  You  must  not  expect  me  to 
blame  them.  But  that  is  not  all." 

"  No,"  I  said,  wiping  my  sword.  "  There  is 
this  gentleman  in  the  mask."  And  I  turned  to  go 
towards  him. 

"  M.  de  Berault !  "  There  was  something  abrupt 
in  the  way  in  which  Cocheforet  called  my  name 
after  me. 

I  stood.     "  Pardon  ?  "  I  said,  turning. 

"  That  gentleman  ?  "  he  answered,  hesitating, 
and  looking  at  me  doubtfully.  "  Have  you  con- 
sidered—  what  will  happen  to  him,  if  you  give 
him  up  to  the  authorities  ? " 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "    I  said  sharply. 

"  That  is  rather  a  delicate  question,"  he 
answered,  frowning,  and  still  looking  at  me 
fixedly. 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  281 

"Not  from  me,"  I  replied  brutally,  "since  he 
is  in  my  power.  -If  he  will  take  off  his  mask, 
I  shall  know  better  what  I  intend  to  do  with 
him." 

The  stranger  had  lost  his  hat  in  his  fall,  and 
his  fair  hair,  stained  with  dust,  hung  in  curls 
on  his  shoulders.  He  was  a  tall  man,  of  a  slen- 
der, handsome  presence,  and  though  his  dress 
was  plain  and  almost  rough,  I  espied  a  splendid 
jewel  on  his  hand,  and  fancied  I  detected  other 
signs  of  high  quality.  He  still  lay  against  the 
bank  in  a  half-swooning  condition,  and  seemed 
unconscious  of  my  scrutiny.  "  Should  I  know 
him  if  he  unmasked  ? "  I  said  suddenly,  a  new 
idea  in  my  head. 

"You  would,"  M.  de  Cocheforet  answered 
simply. 

"And?" 

"  It  would  be  bad  for  every  one." 

"  Ho,  ho ! "  I  said  softly,  looking  hard,  first 
at  my  old  prisoner,  and  then  at  my  new  one. 
"  Then,  what  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Leave  him  here,"  M.  de  Cocheforet  answered 
glibly,  his  face  flushed,  the  pulse  in  his  cheek 


282  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

beating.  I  had  known  him  for  a  man  of  perfect 
honour  before,  and  trusted  him.'  But  this  evident 
earnest  anxiety  on  behalf  of  his  friend  touched 
me.  Besides,  I  knew  that  I  was  treading  on 
slippery  ground;  that  it  behoved  me  to  be  care- 
ful. "  I  will  do  it,"  I  said,  after  a  moment's 
reflection.  "  He  will  play  me  no  tricks,  I  sup- 
pose ?  A  letter  of  —  "  -1 

"Mon  Dieu,  no!  He  will  understand,"  Coche- 
foret  answered  eagerly.  "You  will  not  repent 
it,  I  swear.  Let  us  be  going." 

"Well,  —  but  my  horse?"  I  said,  somewhat 
taken  aback  by  this  extreme  haste. 

"We  shall  overtake  it,"  he  replied  urgently. 
"  It  will  have  kept  to  the  road.  Lectoure  is 
no  more  than  a  league  from  here,  and  we  can 
give  orders  there  to  have  these  two  fetched  in 
and  buried." 

I  had  nothing  to  gain  by  demurring,  and  so 
it  was  arranged.  After  that  we  did  not  linger. 
We  picked  up  what  we  had  dropped,  M.  de  Coche- 
foret  mounted  his  sister,  and  within  five  minutes 
we  were  gone.  Casting  a  glance  back  from  the 
skirts  of  the  wood,  as  we  entered  it,  £  fancied! 


THE  ROAD   TO  PARIS.  283 

that  I  saw  the  masked  man  straighten  himself 
and  turn  to  look  after  us ;  but  the  leaves  were 
beginning  to  intervene,  the  distance  was  great 
and  perhaps  cheated  me.  And  yet  I  was  not 
disinclined  to  think  the  unknown  a  little  less 
severely  injured  and  a  trifle  more  observant 
than  he  seemed. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AT   THE   FINGER-POST. 

THROUGH  all,  it  will  have  been  noticed,  Mad- 
emoiselle had  not  spoken  to  me,  nor  said  one  word, 
good  or  bad.  She  had  played  her  part  grimly; 
had  taken  her  defeat  in  silence,  if  with  tears  ;  had 
tried  neither  prayer,  nor  defence,  nor  apology. 
And  the  fact  that  the  fight  was  now  over,  the 
scene  left  behind,  made  no  difference  in  her  con- 
duct—  to  my  surprise  and  discomfiture.  She 
kept  her  face  averted  from  me ;  she  rode  as 
before;  she  affected  to  ignore  my  presence.  I 
caught  my  horse  feeding  by  the  road-side,  a  fur- 
long forward,  and  mounted,  and  fell  into  place 
behind  the  two,  as  in  the  morning.  And  just  as 
we  had  plodded  on  then  in  silence,  we  plodded  on 
now,  while  I  wondered  at  the  unfathomable  ways 
of  women,  and  knowing  that  I  had  borne  myself 
well,  marvelled  that  she  could  take  part  in  such  an 
incident  and  remain  unchanged. 

284 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  285 

Yet  it  had  made  a  change  in  her.  Though  her 
mask  screened  her  well,  it  could  not  entirely  hide 
her  emotions,  and  by-and-bye  I  marked  that  her 
head  drooped,  that  she  rode  sadly  and  listlessly, 
that  the  lines  of  her  figure  were  altered.  I  noticed 
that  she  had  flung  away,  or  furtively  dropped,  her 
riding-whip,  and  I  understood  that  to  the  old 
hatred  of  me  were  now  added  shame  and  vexa- 
tion ;  shame  that  she  had  so  lowered  herself,  even 
to  save  her  brother,  vexation  that  defeat  had  been 
her  only  reward. 

Of  this  I  saw  a  sign  at  Lectoure,  where  the  inn 
had  but  one  common  room,  and  we  must  all  dine 
in  company.  I  secured  for  them  a  table  by  the 
fire,  and  leaving  them  standing  by  it,  retired  my- 
self to  a  smaller  one,  near  the  door.  There  were 
no  other  guests,  and  this  made  the  separation 
between  us  more  marked.  M.  de  Cocheforet 
seemed  to  feel  this.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  looked  at  me  with  a  smile  half  sad,  half 
comical.  But  Mademoiselle  was  implacable.  She 
had  taken  off  her  mask,  and  her  face  was  like 
stone.  Once,  only  once,  during  the  meal  I  saw  a 
change  come  over  her.  She  coloured,  I  suppose 


286  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

at  her  thoughts,  until  her  face  flamed  from  brow 
to  chin.  I  watched  the  blush  spread  and  spread, 
and  then  she  slowly  and  proudly  turned  her 
shoulder  to  me,  and  looked  through  the  window 
at  the  shabby  street. 

I  suppose  that  she  and  her  brother  had  both 
built  on  this  attempt,  which  must  have  been 
arranged  at  Auch.  For  when  we  went  on  in  the 
afternoon,  I  saw  a  more  marked  change.  They 
rode  now  like  people  resigned  to  the  worst.  The 
grey  realities  of  the  brother's  position,  the  dreary, 
hopeless  future,  began  to  hang  like  a  mist  before 
their  eyes ;  began  to  tinge  the  landscape  with  sad- 
ness ;  robbed  even  the  sunset  of  its  colours.  With 
each  hour  their  spirits  flagged  and  their  speech 
became  less  frequent,  until  presently,  when  the 
light  was  nearly  gone  and  the  dusk  was  round  us, 
the  brother  and  sister  rode  hand  in  hand,  silent, 
gloomy,  one  at  least  of  them  weeping.  The  cold 
shadow  of  the  Cardinal,  of  Paris,  of  the  scaffold, 
was  beginning  to  make  itself  felt ;  was  beginning 
to  chill  them.  As  the  mountains  which  they  had 
known  all  their  lives  sank  and  faded  behind  us,  and 
we  entered  on  the  wide,  low  valley  of  the  Garonne, 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  287 

their  hopes  sank  and  faded  also  —  sank  to  the 
dead-level  of  despair.  Surrounded  by  guards,  a 
mark  for  curious  glances,  with  pride  for  a  com- 
panion, M.  de  Cocheforet  could  doubtless  have 
borne  himself  bravely ;  doubtless  he  would  bear 
himself  bravely  still  when  the  end  came.  But 
almost  alone,  moving  forward  through  the  grey 
evening  to  a  prison,  with  so  many  measured  days 
before  him,  and  nothing  to  exhilarate  or  anger,  — 
in  this  condition  it  was  little  wonder  if  he  felt,  and 
betrayed  that  he  felt,  the  blood  run  slow  in  his 
veins ;  if  he  thought  more  of  the  weeping  wife 
and  ruined  home,  which  he  left  behind  him,  than 
of  the  cause  in  which  he  had  spent  himself. 

But  God  knows,  they  had  no  monopoly  of  gloom. 
I  felt  almost  as  sad  myself.  Long  before  sunset 
the  flush  of  triumph,  the  heat  of  the  battle,  which 
had  warmed  my  heart  at  noon,  were  gone ;  giving 
place  to  a  chill  dissatisfaction,  a  nausea,  a  de- 
spondency, such  as  I  have  known  follow  a  long 
night  at  the  tables.  Hitherto  there  had  been 
difficulties  to  be  overcome,  risks  to  be  run,  doubts 
about  the  end.  Now  the  end  was  certain,  and 
very  near ;  so  near  that  it  filled  all  the  prospect. 


288  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

One  hour  of  triumph  I  might  still  have ;  I  hugged 
the  thought  of  it  as  a  gambler  hugs  his  last  stake. 
I  planne'd  the  place  and  time  and  mode,  and  tried 
to  occupy  myself  wholly  with  it.  But  the  price  ? 
Alas,  that  would  intrude  too,  and  more  as  the 
evening  waned ;  so  that  as  I  passed  this  or  that 
thing  by  the  road,  which  I  could  recall  passing 
on  my  journey  south,  —  with  thoughts  so  different, 
with  plans  that  now  seemed  so  very,  very  old,  —  I 
asked  myself  grimly  if  this  were  really  I,  if  this 
were  Gil  de  Berault,  known  as  Zaton's  premier 
joueur ;  or  some  Don  Quichotte  from  Castile, 
tilting  at  windmills,  and  taking  barbers'  bowls 
for  gold. 

We  reached  Agen  very  late  in  the  evening, 
after  groping  through  a  by-way  near  the  river, 
set  with  holes  and  willow-stools  and  frog-spawns 
—  a  place  no  better  than  a  slough.  After  it 
the  great  fire  and  the  lights  at  the  Blue  Maid 
seemed  like  a  glimpse  of  a  new  world,  and  in  a 
twinkling  put  something  of  life  and  spirits  into 
two  at  least  of  us.  There  was  queer  talk  round 
the  hearth  here  of  doings  in  Paris,  —  of  a  stir 
against  the  Cardinal,  with  the  Queen-mother  at 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  289 

bottom,  and  of  grounded  expectations  that  some- 
thing might  this  time  come  of  it.  But  the  land- 
lord pooh-poohed  the  idea,  and  I  more  than 
agreed  with  him.  Even  M.  de  Cocheforet,  who 
was  for  a  moment  inclined  to  build  on  it,  gave 
up  hope  when  he  heard  that  it  came  only  by  way 
of  Montauban ;  whence,  since  its  reduction  the 
year  before,  all  sorts  of  canards  against  the  Car- 
dinal were  always  on  the  wing. 

"  They  kill  him  about  once  a  month,"  our 
host  said,  with  a  grin.  "Sometimes  it  is  Mon- 
sieur who  is  to  prove  a  match  for  him,  sometimes 
Char  Monsieur — the  Duke  of  Vendome,  you 
understand,  —  and  sometimes  the  Queen-mother. 
But  since  M.  de  Chalais  and  the  Marshal  made 
a  mess  of  it,  and  paid  forfeit,  I  pin  my  faith  to 
His  Eminence  —  that  is  his  new  title,  they  tell 
me." 

"  Things  are  quiet  round  here  ? "    I  asked. 

"  Perfectly.  Since  the  Languedoc  business 
came  to  an  end,  all  goes  well,"  he  answered. 

Mademoiselle  had  retired  on  our  arrival,  so 
that  her  brother  and  I  were  for  an  hour  or  two 
thrown  together.  I  left  him  at  liberty  to  separate 


29°  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

himself  if  he  pleased,  but  he  did  not  use  the 
opportunity.  A  kind  of  comradeship,  rendered 
piquant  by  our  peculiar  relations,  had  begun  to 
spring  up  between  us.  He  seemed  to  take  pleas- 
ure in  my  company,  more  than  once  rallied  me 
on  my  post  of  jailer,  would .  ask  humorously  if 
he  might  do  this  or  that,  and  once  even  inquired 
what  I  should  do  if  he  broke  his  parole. 

"  Or  take  it  this  way,"  he  continued  flippantly. 
"  Suppose  I  had  stuck  you  in  the  back  this  even- 
ing, in  that  cursed  swamp  by  the  river,  M.  de 
Berault  ?  What  then  ?  Pardieu  !  I  am  astonished 
at  myself .  that  I  did  not  do  it.  I  could  have 
been  in  Montauban  within  twenty-four  hours,  and 
found  fifty  hiding-places,  and  no  one  the  wiser." 

"  Except  your  sister,"  I  said  quietly. 

He  laughed  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  am  afraid  I  must  have  put 
her  out  of  the  way  too,  to  preserve  my  self- 
respect.  You  are  right."  And  on  that  he  fell 
into  a  reverie  which  held  him  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  I  found  him  looking  at  me  with  a  kind  of 
frank  perplexity  that  invited  question. 

"What  is  it?"  I  said. 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST. 


"  You  have  fought  a  great  many  duels  ?  " 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"  Did  you  never  strike  a  foul  blow  in  one  of 
them  ?  " 

"  Never.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Well,  —  I  wanted  to  confirm  an  impression," 
he  said.  "  To  be  frank,  M.  de  Berault,  I  seem  to 
see  in  you  two  men." 

"Two  men?" 

"  Yes,  two  men,"  he  answered.  "  One,  the 
man  who  captured  me  ;  the  other,  the  man  who 
let  my  friend  go  free  to-day." 

"  It  surprised  you  that  I  let  him  go  ?  That 
was  prudence,  M.  de  Cocheforet,"  I  replied, 
"nothing  more.  I  am  an  old  gambler  —  I 
know  when  the  stakes  are  too  high  for  me.  The 
man  who  caught  a  lion  in  his  wolf-pit  had  no 
great  catch." 

"  No,  that  is  true,"  he  answered,  smiling. 
"  And  yet  —  I  find  two  men  in  your  skin." 

"  I  dare  say  that  there  are  two  in  most  men's 
skins,"  I  answered,  with  a  sigh,  "but  not  always 
together.  Sometimes  one  is  there,  and  sometimes 
the  other." 

U   2 


292  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  How  does  the  one  like  taking  up  the  other's 
work  ? "  he  asked  keenly. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  "That  is  as  may 
be,"  I  said.  "You  do  not  take  an  estate  with- 
out the  debts." 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  and  I  fancied 
that  his  thoughts  had  reverted  to  his  own  case. 
But  on  a  sudden  he  looked  at  me  again.  "  Will 
you  answer  me  a  question,  M.  de  Berault  ? "  he 
said,  with  a  winning  smile. 

"Perhaps,"  I  said. 

"Then  tell  me  —  it  is  a  tale  that  is,  I  am  sure, 
worth  the  telling.  What  was  it  that,  in  a  very 
evil  hour  for  me,  sent  you  in  search  of  me  ? " 

"The  Cardinal,"  I  answered. 

"  I  did  not  ask  who,"  he  replied  drily.  "  I 
asked,  what.  You  had  no  grudge  against  me?" 

"No." 

"  No  knowledge  of  me  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  what  on  earth  induced  you  to  do  it  ? 
Heavens,  man,"  he  continued  bluntly,  rising  and 
speaking  with  greater  freedom  than  he  had 
before  used,  "  nature  never  intended  you  for  a  tip- 
staff! What  was  it,  then?" 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  293 

I  rose  too.  It  was  very  late,  and  the  room 
was  empty,  the  fire  low.  "  I  will  tell  you  —  to- 
morrow ! "  I  said.  "  I  shall  have  something  to 
say  to  you  then,  of  which  that  will  be  part." 

He  looked  at  me  in  great  astonishment ;  with 
a  little  suspicion,  too.  But  I  put  him  off,  and 
called  for  a  light,  and  by  going  at  once  to  bed, 
cut  short  his  questions. 

Those  who  know  the  great  south  road  to  Agen, 
and  how  the  vineyards  rise  in  terraces  north  of 
the  town,  one  level  of  red  earth  above  another, 
green  in  summer,  but  in  late  autumn  bare  and 
stony,  will  remember  a  particular  place  where 
the  road  two  leagues  from  the  town  runs  up  a 
long  hill.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  four  ways 
meet;  and  there,  plain  to  be  seen  against  the 
sky  is  a  finger-post,  indicating  which  way  leads 
to  Bordeaux,  and  which  to  Montauban,  and  which 
to  Perigueux. 

This  hill  had  impressed  me  on  my  journey 
down;  perhaps,  because  I  had  from  it  my  first 
view  of  the  Garonne  valley,  and  there  felt  myself 
on  the  verge  of  the  south  country  where  my 
mission  lay.  It  had  taken  root  in  my  memory ; 


294  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

I  had  come  to  look  upon  its  bare,  bleak  brow, 
with  the  finger-post  and  the  four  roads,  as  the 
first  outpost  of  Paris,  as  the  first  sign  of  return 
to  the  old  life. 

Now  for  two  days  I  had  been  looking  forward 
to  seeing  it  again.  That  long  stretch  of  road 
would  do  admirably  for  something  I  had  in  my 
mind.  That  sign-post,  with  the  roads  pointing 
north,  south,  east,  and  west,  could  there  be  a 
better  place  for  meetings  and  partings  ? 

We  came  to  the  bottom  of  the  ascent  about 
an  hour  before  noon  —  M.  de  Cocheforet,  Made- 
moiselle, and  I.  We  had  reversed  the  order  of 
yesterday,  and  I  rode  ahead.  They  came  after 
me  at  their  leisure.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  how- 
ever, I  stopped  and,  letting  Mademoiselle  pass 
on,  detained  M.  de  Cocheforet  by  a  gesture. 
"  Pardon  me,  one  moment,"  I  said.  "  I  want  to 
ask  a  favour." 

He  looked  at  me  somewhat  fretfully,  with  a 
gleam  of  wildness  in  his  eyes  that  betrayed  how 
the  iron  was  eating  into  his  heart.  He  had 
started  after  breakfast  as  gaily  as  a  bridegroom, 
but  gradually  he  had  sunk  below  himself;  and 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  295 

now  he  had  much  ado  to  curb  his  impatience. 
The  bonhomie  of  last  night  was  quite  gone.  "  Of 
me  ?  "  he  said.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  have  a  few  words  with  Mademoi- 
selle—  alone,"  I  explained. 

"  Alone  ?  "   he  answered,  frowning. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  without  blenching,  though 
his  face  grew  dark.  "  For  the  matter  of  that, 
you  can  be  within  call  all  the  time,  if  you 
please.  But  I  have  a  reason  for  wishing  to  ride 
a  little  way  with  her." 

"  To  tell  her  something  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"Then  you  can  tell  it  to  me,"  he  retorted 
suspiciously.  "  Mademoiselle,  I  will  answer  for 
it,  has  no  desire  to  — " 

"  See  me,  or  speak  to  me ! "  I  said,  taking 
him  up.  "  I  can  understand  that.  Yet  I  want 
to  speak  to  her." 

"Very  well,  you  can  speak  to  her  before  me," 
he  answered  rudely.  "  Let  us  ride  on  and  join 
her."  And  he  made  a  movement  as  if  to  do 
so. 

"That  will  not  do,  M.  de  Cocheforet,"  I  said 


296  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

firmly,  stopping  him  with  my  hand.  "  Let  me 
beg  you  to  be  more  complaisant  It  is  a  small 
thing  I  ask ;  but  I  swear  to  you,  if  Mademoiselle 
does  not  grant  it,  she  will  repent  it  all  her 
life." 

He  looked  at  me,  his  face  growing  darker 
and  darker.  "  Fine  words ! "  he  said  presently, 
with  a  sneer.  "  Yet  I  fancy  I  understand  them." 
Then  with  a  passionate  oath  he  broke  out  in 
a  fresh  tone.  "  But  I  will  not  have  it.  I  have 
not  been  blind,  M.  de  Berault,  and  I  understand. 
But  I  will  not  have  it !  I  will  have  no  such 
Judas  bargain  made.  Pardien !  do  you  think 
I  could  suffer  it  and  show  my  face  again  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean !  "  I  said,  re- 
straining myself  with  difficulty.  I  could  have 
struck  the  fool. 

"  But  I  know  what  you  mean,"  he  replied,  in 
a  tone  of  repressed  rage.  "You  would  have 
her  sell  herself :  sell  herself  body  and  soul  to 
you  to  save  me !  And  you  would  have  me  stand 
by  and  see  the  thing  done !  Well,  my  answer 
is  —  never !  though  I  go  to  the  wheel !  I  will 
die  a  gentleman,  if  I  have  lived  a  fool ! " 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  297 

"  I  think  you  will  do  the  one  as  certainly  as 
you  have  done  the  other,"  I  retorted,  in  my 
exasperation.  And  yet  I  admired  him. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  such  a  fool,"  he  cried,  scowl- 
ing at  me,  "as  you  have  perhaps  thought.  I 
have  used  my  eyes." 

"  Then  be  good  enough  now  to  favour  me  with 
your  ears,"  I  answered  drily.  "  And  listen  when 
I  say  that  no  such  bargain  has  ever  crossed  my 
mind.  You  were  kind  enough  to  think  well  of 
me  last  night,  M.  de  Cocheforet.  Why  should 
the  mention  of  Mademoiselle  in  a  moment  change 
your  opinion  ?  I  wish  simply  to  speak  to  her. 
I  have  nothing  to  ask  from  her;  neither  favour 
nor  anything  else.  And  what  I  say  she  will 
doubtless  tell  you  afterwards.  del,  man ! "  I 
continued  angrily,  "what  harm  can  I  do  to 
her,  in  the  road,  in  your  sight  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  sullenly,  his  face  still  flushed, 
his  eyes  suspicious.  "What  do  you  want  to  say 
to  her?"  he  asked  jealously.  He  was  quite 
unlike  himself.  His  airy  nonchalance,  his  care- 
less gaiety,  were  gone. 

"  You  know  what  I  do  not  want  to  say  to  her, 


298  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

M.  de  Cocheforet,"  I  answered.  "That  should 
be  enough." 

He  glowered  at  me  for  a  moment,  still  ill  con- 
tent. Then,  without  a  word,  he  made  me  a  ges- 
ture to  go  to  her. 

She  had  halted  a  score  of  paces  away,  won- 
dering doubtless  what  was  on  foot.  I  rode 
towards  her.  She  wore  her  mask,  so  that  I  lost 
the  expression  of  her  face  as  I  approached,  but 
the  manner  in  which  she  turned  her  horse's 
head  uncompromisingly  towards  her  brother,  and 
looked  past  me  —  as  if  I  were  merely  a  log  in 
the  road  —  was  full  of  meaning.  I  felt  the  ground 
suddenly  cut  from  under  me.  I  saluted  her,  trem- 
bling. "  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "  will  you  grant 
me  the  privilege  of  your  company  for  a  few  min- 
utes, as  we  ride." 

"  To  what  purpose,  Sir  ?  "  she  answered,  in  the 
coldest  voice  in  which  I  think  a  woman  ever 
spoke  to  a  man. 

"  That  I  may  explain  to  you  a  great  many 
things  you  do  not  understand,"  I  murmured. 

"  I  prefer  to  be  in  the  dark,"  she  replied.  And 
her  manner  said  more  than  her  words. 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  299 

"  But,  Mademoiselle,"  I  pleaded,  —  I  would  not 
be  discouraged,  —  "  you  told  me  one  day  that  you 
would  never  judge  me  hastily  again." 

"  Facts  judge  you,  not  I,  Sir,"  she  answered 
icily.  "  I  am  not  sufficiently  on  a  level  with  you 
to  be  able  to  judge  you  —  I  thank  God." 

I  shivered  though  the  sun  was  on  me,  and  the 
hollow  where  we  stood  was  warm.  "  Still  —  once 
before  you  thought  the  same ! "  I  exclaimed. 
"Afterwards  you  found  that  you  had  been  wrong. 
It  may  be  so  again,  Mademoiselle." 

"  Impossible,"  she  said. 

That  stung  me.  "No!"  I  said  fiercely.  "It 
is  not  impossible.  It  is  you  who  are  impossible ! 
It  is  you  who  are  heartless,  Mademoiselle.  I 
have  done  much,  very  much,  in  the  last  three 
days  to  make  things  lighter  for  you.  I  ask  you 
now  to  do  something  for  me  which  can  cost  you 
nothing." 

"  Nothing  ? "  she  answered  slowly ;  and  her 
scornful  voice  cut  me  as  if  it  had  been  a  knife. 
"  Do  you  think,  Monsieur,  it  costs  me  nothing 
to  lose  my  self-respect,  as  I  do  with  every  word 
I  speak  to  you  ?  Do  you  think  it  costs  me  noth- 


300  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

ing  to  be  here,  where  I  feel  every  look  you  cast 
on  me  an  insult,  every  breath  I  take  in  your 
presence  a  contamination.  Nothing,  Monsieur  ? " 
She  laughed  in  bitter  irony.  "  Oh,  be  sure,  some- 
thing !  But  something  which  I  despair  of  making 
clear  to  you." 

I  sat  for  a  moment  in  my  saddle,  shaken  and 
quivering  with  pain.  It  had  been  one  thing  to 
feel  that  she  hated  and  scorned  me,  to  know 
that  the  trust  and  confidence  which  she  had 
begun  to  place  in  me  were  changed  to  loathing. 
It  was  another  to  listen  to  hen  hard,  pitiless  words, 
to  change  colour  under  the  lash  of  her  gibing 
tongue.  For  a  moment  I  could  not  find  voice 
to  answer  her.  Then  I  pointed  to  M.  de  Coche- 
foret.  "  Do  you  love  him  ? "  I  said,  hoarsely, 
roughly.  The  gibing  tone  had  passed  from  her 
voice  to  mine. 

She  did  not  answer. 

"Because,  if  you  do,"  I  continued,  "you  will 
let  me  tell  my  tale.  Say  no  but  once  more, 
Mademoiselle,  —  I  am  only  human,  —  and  I  go. 
And  you  will  repent  it  all  your  life." 

I  had  done  better  had  I  taken  that  tone  from 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  3OI 

the  beginning.  She  winced,  her  head  drooped, 
she  seemed  to  grow  smaller.  All  in  a  moment, 
as  it  were,  her  pride  collapsed.  "  I  will  hear 
you,"  she  answered  feebly. 

"Then  we  will  ride  on,  if  you  please,"  I  said, 
keeping  the  advantage  I  had  gained.  "  You 
need  not  fear.  Your  brother  will  follow." 

I  caught  hold  of  her  rein  and  turned  her 
horse,  and  she  suffered  it  without  demur.  In  a 
moment  we  were  pacing  side  by  side,  the  long, 
straight  road  before  us.  At  the  end  where  it 
topped  the  hill,  I  could  see  the  finger-post,  —  two 
faint  black  lines  against  the  sky.  When  we 
reached  that,  involuntarily  I  checked  my  horse 
and  made  it  move  more  slowly. 

"Well,  Sir,"  she  said  impatiently.  And  her 
figure  shook  as  if  with  cold. 

"  It  is  a  tale  I  desire  to  tell  you,  Made- 
moiselle," I  answered,  speaking  with  effort. 
"  Perhaps  I  may  seem  to  begin  a  long  way  off, 
but  before  I  end,  I  promise  to  interest  you.  Two 
months  ago  there  was  living  in  Paris  a  man, 
perhaps  a  bad  man,  at  any  rate,  by  common 
report,  a  hard  man." 


302       UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

She  turned  to  me  suddenly,  her  eyes  gleaming 
through  her  mask.  "  Oh,  Monsieur,  spare  me 
this ! "  she  said,  quietly  scornful.  "  I  will  take 
it  for  granted." 

"Very  well,"  I  replied  steadfastly.  "Good 
or  bad,  this  man,  one  day,  in  defiance  of  the 
Cardinal's  edict  against  duelling,  fought  with  a 
young  Englishman  behind  St.  Jacques  Church. 
The  Englishman  had  influence,  the  person  of 
whom  I  speak  had  none,  and  an  indifferent 
name ;  he  was  arrested,  thrown  into  the  Chatelet, 
cast  for  death,  left  for  days  to  face  death.  At 
the  last  an  offer  was  made  to  him.  If  he 
would  seek  out  and  deliver  up  another  man,  an 
outlaw  with  a  price  upon  his  head,  he  should 
himself  go  free." 

I  paused  and  drew  a  deep  breath.  Then  I 
continued,  looking  not  at  her,  but  into  the  dis- 
tance :  "  Mademoiselle,  it  seems  easy  now  to  say 
what  course  he  should  have  chosen.  It  seems 
hard  now  to  find  excuses  for  him.  But  there 
was  one  thing  which  I  plead  for  him.  The  task 
he  was  asked  to  undertake  was  a  dangerous 
one.  He  risked,  he  knew  he  must  risk,  and  the 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  303 

event  proved  him  right,  his  life  against  the  life 
of  this  unknown  man.  And  —  one  thing  more  — 
there  was  time  before  him.  The  outlaw  might 
be  taken  by  another,  might  be  killed,  might  die, 
might — .  But  there,  Mademoiselle,  we  know 
what  answer  this  person  made.  He  took  the 
baser  course,  and  on  his  honour,  on  his  parole, 
with  money  supplied  to  him,  went  free,  —  free 
on  the  condition  that  he  delivered  up  this  other 
man." 

I  paused  again,  but  I  did  not  dare  to  look 
at  her,  and  after  a  moment  of  silence  I  resumed. 
"  Some  portion  of  the  second  half  of  this  story 
you  know,  Mademoiselle;  but  not  all.  Suffice 
it  that  this  man  came  down  to  a  remote  village, 
and  there  at  a  risk,  but  Heaven  knows,  basely 
enough,  found  his  way  into  his  victim's  home. 
Once  there,  his  heart  began  to  fail  him.  Had 
he  found  the  house  garrisoned  by  men,  he 
might  have  pressed  on  to  his  end  with  little 
remorse.  But  he  found  there  only  two  helpless, 
loyal  women ;  and  I  say  again  that  from  the 
first  hour  of  his  entrance  he  sickened  of  the 
work  he  had  in  hand.  Still  he  pursued  it.  He 


304  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

had  given  his  word,  and  if  there  was  one  tradi- 
tion of  his  race  which  this  man  had  never  broken, 
it  was  that  of  fidelity  to  his  side;  to  the  man 
that  paid  him.  But  he  pursued  it  with  only 
half  his  mind,  in  great  misery  sometimes,  if 
you  will  believe  me,  in  agonies  of  shame.  Grad- 
ually, however,  almost  against  his  will,  the  drama 
worked  itself  out  before  him,  until  he  needed 
only  one  thing." 

I  looked  at  Mademoiselle.  But  her  head  was 
averted ;  I  could  gather  nothing  from  the  out- 
lines of  her  form.  And  I  went  on.  "  Do  not 
misunderstand  me,"  I  said,  in  a  lower  voice.  "  Do 
not  misunderstand  what  I  am  going  to  say  next. 
This  is  no  love  story,  and  can  have  no  ending 
such  as  romancers  love  to  set  to  their  tales.  But 
I  am  bound  to  mention,  Mademoiselle,  that  this 
man,  who  had  lived  about  inns  and  eating-houses, 
and  at  the  gaming-tables  almost  all  his  days,  met 
here  for  the  first  time  for  years  a  good  woman ; 
and  learned  by  the  light  of  her  loyalty  and 
devotion  to  see  what  his  life  had  been,  and 
what  was  the  real  nature  of  the  work  he  was 
doing.  I  think,  —  nay,  I  know  —  that  it  added  a 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  305 

hundredfold  to  his  misery,  that  when  he  learned 
at  last  the  secret  he  had  come  to  surprise,  he 
learned  it  from  her  lips,  and  in  such  a  way 
that  had  he  felt  no  shame,  hell  could  have 
been  no  place  for  him.  But  in  one  thing  she 
misjudged  him.  She  thought,  and  had  reason 
to  think,  that  the  moment  he  knew  her  secret 
he  went  out,  not  even  closing  the  door,  and  used 
it.  But  the  truth  was  that,  while  her  words 
were  still  in  his  ears,  news  came  to  him  that 
others  had  the  secret;  and  had  he  not  gone 
out  on  the  instant,  and  done  what  he  did,  and 
forestalled  them,  M.  de  Cocheforet  would  have 
been  taken,  but  by  others." 

Mademoiselle  broke  her  long  silence  so  sud- 
denly that  her  horse  sprang  forward.  "  Would 
to  Heaven  he  had !  "  she  wailed. 

"  Been  taken  by  others  ?  "  I  exclaimed,  startled 
out  of  my  false  composure. 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes ! "  she  answered  passionately. 
"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  ?  Why  did  you  not 
confess  to  me  even  then  ?  I  —  oh,  no  more ! 
No  more ! "  she  continued,  in  a  piteous  voice. 
"  I  have  heard  enough.  You  are  racking  my 


306  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

heart,  M.  de  Berault.     Some  day  I  will  ask  God 
to  give  me  strength  to  forgive  you." 

"  But   you  have  not  heard  me  out,"  I  replied. 

"  I  want  to  hear  no  more,"  she  answered,  in 
a  voice  she  vainly  strove  to  render  steady.  "  To 
what  end  ?  Can  I  say  more  than  I  have  said  ? 
Did  you  think  I  could  forgive  you  now  —  with 
him  behind  us  going  to  his  death  ?  Oh,  no, 
no !"  she  continued.  "  Leave  me  !  I  implore  you 
to  leave  me.  I  am  not  well." 

She  drooped  over  her  horse's  neck  as  she 
spoke  and  began  to  weep  so  passionately  that 
the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks  under  her  mask, 
and  fell  and  sparkled  like  dew  on  the  mane  before 
her;  while  her  sobs  shook  her  so  painfully  that 
I  thought  she  must  fall.  I  stretched  out  my 
hand  instinctively  to  give  her  help ;  but  she 
shrank  from  me.  "  No  !  "  she  gasped,  between 
her  sobs.  "  Do  not  touch  me.  There  is  too 
much  between  us." 

"Yet  there  must  be  one  thing  more  between 
us,"  I  answered  firmly.  "You  must  listen  to 
me  a  little  longer,  whether  you  will  or  no,  Mad- 
emoiselle, for  the  love  you  bear  to  your  brother. 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  307 

There  is  one  course  still  open  to  me  by  which 
I  may  redeem  my  honour;  it  has  been  in  my 
mind  for  some  time  back  to  take  that  course. 
To-day,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  I  can  take  it 
cheerfully,  if  not  without  regret;  with  a  stead- 
fast heart,  if  with  no  light  one.  Mademoiselle," 
I  continued  earnestly,  feeling  none  of  the  tri- 
umph, none  of  the  vanity,  I  had  foreseen,  but 
only  joy  in  the  joy  I  could  give  her,  "I  thank 
God  that  it  is  still  in  my  power  to  undo  what 
I  have  done;  that  it  is  still  in  my  power  to  go 
back  to  him  who  sent  me,  and  telling  him  that 
I  have  changed  my  mind  and  will  bear  my  own 
burdens,  to  pay  the  penalty." 

We  were  within  a  hundred  paces  of  the  brow 
of  the  hill  and  the  finger-post  now.  She  cried 
out  wildly  that  she  did  not  understand.  "  What 
is  it  you  have  just  said  ? "  she  murmured.  "  I 
cannot  hear."  And  she  began  to  fumble  with 
the  ribbon  of  her  mask. 

"  Only  this,  Mademoiselle,"  I  answered  gently. 
"  I  give  back  to  your  brother  his  word  and  his 
parole.  From  this  moment  he  is  free  to  go 
whither  he  pleases.  You  shall  tell  him  so  from 

x  2 


308  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

me.  Here,  where  we  stand,  four  roads  meet. 
That  to  the  right  goes  to  Montauban,  where  you 
have  doubtless  friends,  and  can  lie  hid  for  a  time ; 
or  that  to  the  left  leads  to  Bordeaux,  where  you 
can  take  ship  if  you  please.  And  in  a  word, 
Mademoiselle,"  I  continued,  ending  a  little  feebly, 
"  I  hope  that  your  troubles  are  now  over." 

She  turned  her  face  to  me  —  we  had  both 
come  to  a  standstill  —  and  plucked  at  the  fasten- 
ings of  her  mask.  But  her  trembling  fingers 
had  knotted  the  string,  and  in  a  moment  she 
dropped  her  hands  with  a  cry  of  despair.  "  And 
you  ?  You  ? "  she  said,  in  a  voice  so  changed  I 
should  not  have  known  it  for  hers.  "What  will 
you  do  ?  I  do  not  understand.  This  mask !  I 
cannot  hear." 

"There  is  a  third  road,"  I  answered.  "  It  leads 
to  Paris.  That  is  my  road,  Mademoiselle.  We 
part  here." 

"But  why?     Why?"    she  cried  wildly. 

"  Because  from  to-day  I  would  fain  begin  to  be 
honourable,"  I  answered,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Be- 
cause I  dare  not  be  generous  at  another's  cost. 
I  must  go  back  to  the  Chltelet." 


AT  THE  FINGER-POST.  309 

She  tried  feverishly  to  raise  her  mask  with 
her  hand.  "  I  am  —  not  well,"  she  stammered. 
"  I  cannot  breathe." 

She  swayed  so  violently  in  her  saddle  as  she 
spoke,  that  I  sprang  down,  and  running  round 
her  horse's  head,  was  just  in  time  to  catch  her 
as  she  fell.  She  was  not  quite  unconscious  then, 
for,  as  I  supported  her,  she  murmured,  "  Leave 
me !  Leave  me !  I  am  not  worthy  that  you 
should  touch  me." 

Those  words  made  me  happy.  I  carried  her 
to  the  bank,  my  heart  on  fire,  and  laid  her  against 
it  just  as  M.  de  Cocheforet  rode  up.  He  sprang 
from  his  horse,  his  eyes  blazing  with  anger. 
"  What  is  this  ?  "  he  cried  harshly.  "  What  have 
you  been  saying  to  her,  man?" 

"  She  will  tell  you,"  I  answered  drily,  my  com- 
posure returning  under  his  eye,  —  "  amongst  other 
things,  that  you  are  free.  From  this  moment, 
M.  de  Cocheforet,  I  give  you  back  your  parole, 
and  I  take  my  own  honour.  Farewell." 

He  cried  out  something  as  I  mounted,  but  I 
did  not  stay  to  hear  or  answer.  I  dashed  the 
spurs  into  my  horse,  and  rode  away  past  the  cross- 


310  UNDER   THE  RED   ROBE. 

roads,  past  the  finger-post;  away  with  the  level 
upland  stretching  before  me,  dry,  bare,  almost 
treeless  —  and  behind  me  all  I  loved.  Once,  when 
I  had  gone  a  hundred  yards,  I  looked  back  and 
saw  him  standing  upright  against  the  sky,  staring 
after  me  across  her  body.  And  again  I  looked 
back.  This  time  I  saw  only  the  slender  wooden 
cross,  and  below  it  a  dark  blurred  mass. 


MMBM 


Staring  after  me  across  her  body. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ST.  MARTIN'S  EVE. 

IT  was  late  evening  on  the  last  day  but  one 
of  November,  when  I  rode  into  Paris  through 
the  Orleans  gate.  The  wind  was  in  the  north- 
east, and  a  great  cloud  of  vapour  hung  in  the 
eye  of  an  angry  sunset.  The  air  seemed  to  be 
full  of  wood  smoke,  the  kennels  reeked,  my 
gorge  rose  at  the  city's  smell ;  and  with  all  my 
heart  I  envied  the  man  who  had  gone  out  of  it 
by  the  same  gate  nearly  two  months  before,  with 
his  face  to  the  south,  and  the  prospect  of  riding 
day  after  day  across  heath  and  moor  and  pasture. 
At  least  he  had  had  some  weeks  of  life  before 
him,  and  freedom,  and  the  open  air,  and  hope  and 
uncertainty,  while  I  came  back  under  doom ;  and 
in  the  pall  of  smoke  that  hung  over  the  huddle 
of  innumerable  roofs,  saw  a  gloomy  shadowing 
of  my  own  fate. 

3" 


312  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

For  make  no  mistake.  A  man  in  middle  life 
does  not  strip  himself  of  the  worldly  habit  with 
which  experience  has  clothed  him,  does  not  run 
counter  to  all  the  cynical  saws  and  instances  by 
which  he  has  governed  his  course  so  long,  with- 
out shiverings  and  doubts  and  horrible  misgiv- 
ings and  struggles  of  heart.  At  least  a  dozen 
times  between  the  Loire  and  Paris,  I  asked  my- 
self what  honour  was;  and  what  good  it  would 
do  me  when  I  lay  rotting  and  forgotten ;  if  I 
was  not  a  fool  following  a  Jack-o'-lanthorn  ;  and 
whether,  of  all  the  men  in  the  world,  the  relent- 
less man  to  whom  I  was  returning,  would  not  be 
the  first  to  gibe  at  my  folly. 

However,  shame  kept  me  straight;  shame  and 
the  memory  of  Mademoiselle's  looks  and  words. 
I  dared  not  be  false  to  her  again  ;  I  could  not, 
after  speaking  so  loftily,  fall  so  low.  And  there- 
fore—  though  not  without  many  a  secret  struggle 
and  quaking  —  I  came,  on  this  last  evening  but 
one  of  November,  to  the  Orleans  gate,  and  rode 
slowly  and  sadly  through  the  streets  by  the  Lux- 
embourg, on  my  way  to  the  Pont  au  Change. 

The   struggle    had    sapped    my   last    strength, 


ST.  MARTINIS  EVE.  313 

however;  and  with  the  first  whiff  of  the  gutters, 
the  first  rush  of  barefooted  gamins  under  my 
horse's  hoofs,  the  first  babel  of  street  cries,  the 
first  breath,  in  a  word,  of  Paris,  there  came  a 
new  temptation  —  to  go  for  one  last  night  to 
Zaton's  to  se.e  the  tables  again  and  the  faces  of 
surprise ;  to  be,  for  an  hour  or  two,  the  old  Berault. 
That  could  be  no  breach  of  honour;  for  in  any 
case  I  could  not  reach  the  Cardinal  before  to- 
morrow. And  it  could  do  no  harm.  It  could 
make  no  change  in  anything.  It  would  not  have 
been  a  thing  worth  struggling  about  —  only  I 
had  in  my  inmost  heart  suspicions  that  the  stout- 
est resolutions  might  lose  their  force  in  that 
atmosphere ;  that  even  such  a  talisman  as  the 
memory  of  a  woman's  looks  and  words  might 
lose  its  virtue  there. 

Still  I  think  I  should  have  succumbed  in  the 
end,  if  I  had  not  received  at  the  corner  of  the 
Luxembourg  a  shock  which  sobered  me  effec- 
tually. As  I  passed  the  gates,  a  coach  followed 
by  two  outriders  swept  out  of  the  palace  court- 
yard ;  it  was  going  at  a  great  pace,  and  I  reined 
my  jaded  horse  on  one  side  to  give  it  room.  As 


3 14  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE, 

it  whirled  by  me,  one  of  the  leather  curtains 
flapped  back,  and  I  saw  for  a  second,  by  the 
waning  light,  —  the  nearer  wheels  were  no  more 
than  two  feet  from  my  boot,  —  a  face  inside. 

A  face,  and  no  more,  and  that  only  for  a  sec- 
ond! But  it  froze  me.  It  was  Richelieu's,  the 
Cardinal's ;  but  not  as  I  had  been  wont  to  see  it, 
keen,  cold,  acute,  with  intellect  and  indomitable 
will  in  every  feature.  This  face  was  distorted 
with  rage  and  impatience ;  with  the  fever  of  haste 
and  the  fear  of  death.  The  eyes  burned  under 
the  pale  brow,  the  mustachios  bristled,  the  teeth 
showed  through  the  beard;  I  could  fancy  the 
man  crying  "Faster!  Faster!"  and  gnawing 
his  nails  in  the  impatience  of  passion ;  and  I 
shrank  back  as  if  I  had  been  struck.  The  next 
moment  the  galloping  outriders  splashed  me,  the 
coach  was  a  hundred  paces  ahead,  and  I  was 
left  chilled  and  wondering,  foreseeing  the  worst, 
and  no  longer  in  any  mood  for  the  gaming-table. 

Such  a  revelation  of  such  a  man  was  enough  to 
appall  me.  Conscience  cried  out  that  he  must  have 
heard  that  Cocheforet  had  escaped,  and  through 
me  !  But  I  dismissed  the  idea  as  soon  as  formed. 


ST.   MARTINIS  EVE.  315 

In  the  vast  meshes  of  the  Cardinal's  schemes, 
Cocheforet  could  be  only  a  small  fish ;  and  to 
account  for  the  face  in  the  coach  I  needed  a 
cataclysm,  a  catastrophe,  a  misfortune,  as  far 
above  ordinary  mishaps,  as  this  man's  intellect 
rose  above  the  common  run  of  minds. 

It  was  almost  dark  when  I  crossed  the  bridges, 
and  crept  despondently  to  the  Rue  Savonnerie. 
After  stabling  my  horse,  I  took  my  bag  and 
holsters,  and  climbing  the  stairs  to  my  old  land- 
lord's,— the  place  seemed  to  have  grown  strangely 
mean  and  small  and  ill-smelling  in  my  absence,  — 
I  knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  opened  by  the 
little  tailor  himself,  who  threw  up  his  arms  at 
the  sight  of  me.  "  By  St.  Genevieve !  "  he  said. 
"  If  it  is  not  M.  de  Berault !  " 

"  No  other,"  I  said.  It  touched  me  a  little, 
after  my  lonely  journey,  to  find  him  so  glad  to 
see  me  —  though  I  had  never  done  him  a  greater 
benefit  than  sometimes  to  unbend  with  him  and 
borrow  his  money.  "You  look  surprised,  little 
man ! "  I  continued,  as  he  made  way  for  me  to 
enter.  "  I'll  be  sworn  you  have  been  pawning 
my  goods  and  letting  my  room,  you  knave  !  " 


316  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  Never,  your  excellency  !  "  he  answered,  beam- 
ing on  me.  "  On  the  contrary,  I  have  been 
expecting  you." 

"  How  ? "  I  said.     "  To-day  ? " 

"  To-day  or  to-morrow,"  he  answered,  following 
me  in  and  closing  the  door.  "The  first  thing  I 
said,  when  I  heard  the  news  this  morning,  was, 
Now  we  shall  have  M.  de  Berault  back  again. 
Your  excellency  will  pardon  the  children,"  he 
continued,  as  I  took  the  old  seat  on  the  three- 
legged  stool  before  the  hearth.  "  The  night  is 
cold,  and  there  is  no  fire  in  your  room." 

While  he  ran  to  and  fro  with  my  cloak  and 
bags,  little  Gil,  to  whom  I  had  stood  at  St.  Sul- 
pice's  —  borrowing  ten  crowns  the  same  day,  I 
remember  —  came  shyly  to  play  with  my  sword- 
hilt.  "  So  you  expected  me  back  when  you  heard 
the  news,  Frison,  did  you?"  I  said,  taking  the 
lad  on  my  knee. 

"To  be  sure,  your  excellency,"  he  answered, 
peeping  into  the  black  pot  before  he  lifted  it  to 
the  hook. 

"  Very  good.  Then,  now,  let  us  hear  what  the 
news  was,"  I  said  drily. 


ST.   MARTINIS  EVE.  3 '7 

"  Of  the  Cardinal,  M.  de  Berault." 

"  Ah  ?     And  what  ? " 

He  looked  at  me,  holding  the  heavy  pot  sus- 
pended in  his  hands.  "  You  have  not  heard  ? " 
he  exclaimed,  his  jaw  falling. 

"  Not  a  tittle.     Tell  it  me,  my  good  fellow." 

"You  have  not  heard  that  His  Eminence  is 
disgraced  ? " 

I  stared  at  him.     "Not  a  word,"  I  said. 

He  set  down  the  pot.  "  Your  excellency  must 
have  made  a  very  long  journey  indeed,  then,"  he 
said,  with  conviction.  "  For  it  has  been  in  the  air 
a  week  or  more,  and  I  thought  it  had  brought  you 
back.  A  week  ?  A  month,  I  dare  say.  They 
whisper  that  it  is  the  old  Queen's  doing.  At  any 
rate,  it  is  certain  that  they  have  cancelled  his 
commissions  and  displaced  his  officers.  There 
are  rumours  of  immediate  peace  with  Spain.  His 
enemies  are  lifting  up  their  heads,  and  I  hear 
that  he  has  relays  of  horses  set  all  the  way  to  the 
coast,  that  he  may  fly  at  any  moment.  For  what 
I  know  he  may  be  gone  already." 

"  But,  man,"  I  said  —  "  the  King  !  You  forget 
the  King.  Let  the  Cardinal  once  pipe  to  him,  and 


318  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE, 

he  will  dance.  And  they  will  dance,  too ! "  I 
added  grimly. 

"  Yes,"  Prison  answered  eagerly.  "  True,  your 
excellency,  but  the  King  will  not  see  him.  Three 
times  to-day,  as  I  am  told,  the  Cardinal  has  driven 
to  the  Luxembourg,  and  stood  like  any  common 
man  in  the  ante-chamber,  so  that  I  hear  it  was 
pitiful  to  see  him.  But  His  Majesty  would  not 
admit  him.  And  when  he  went  away  the  last 
time,  I  am  told  that  his  face  was  like  death ! 
Well,  he  was  a  great  man,  and  we  may  be  worse 
ruled,  M.  de  Berault,  saving  your  presence.  If 
the  nobles  did  not  like  him,  he  was  good  to  the 
traders,  and  the  boiirgeoisie,  and  equal  to  all." 

"  Silence,  man !  Silence,  and  let  me  think,"  I 
said,  much  excited.  And  while  he  bustled  to  and 
fro,  getting  my  supper,  and  the  firelight  played 
about  the  snug,  sorry  little  room,  and  the  child 
toyed  with  his  plaything,  I  fell  to  digesting  this 
great  news,  and  pondering  how  I  stood  now  and 
what  I  ought  to  do.  At  first  sight,  I  know,  it 
seemed  that  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  sit  still.  In 
a  few  hours  the  man  who  held  my  bond  would  be 
powerless,  and  I  should  be  free.  In  a  few  hours 


ST.   MARTINIS  EVE.  319 

I  might  smile  at  him.  To  all  appearance,  the 
dice  had  fallen  well  for  me.  I  had  done  a  great 
thing,  run  a  great  risk,  won  a  woman's  love,  and 
after  all  was  not  to  pay  the  penalty  ! 

But  a  word  which  fell  from  Frison  as  he  flut- 
tered round  me,  pouring  out  the  broth,  and  cutting 
the  bread,  dropped  into  my  mind  and  spoiled  my 
satisfaction.  "Yes,  your  excellency,"  he  ex- 
claimed, confirming  something  he  had  said  before, 
and  which  I  had  missed,  "  and  I  am  told  that  the 
last  time  he  came  into  the  gallery,  there  was  not 
a  man  of  all  the  scores  who  attended  his  levee 
last  Monday  would  speak  to  him.  They  fell  off 
like  rats, — just  like  rats, — until  he  was  left  standing 
all  alone.  And  I  have  seen  him ! "  Frison  lifted 
up  his  eyes  and  his  hands  and  drew  in  his  breath. 
"Ah,  I  have  seen  the  King  look  shabby  beside 
him !  And  his  eye  !  I  would  not  like  to  meet  it 
now." 

"  Pish  !  "  I  growled.  "  Some  one  has  fooled 
you.  Men  are  wiser  than  that." 

"  So  ?  Well,  your  excellency  understands.  But 
—  there  are  no  cats  on  a  cold  hearth." 

I  told  him  again  that  he  was  a  fool.     But  withal 


320  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

I  felt  uncomfortable.  This  was  a  great  man 
if  ever  a  great  man  lived,  and  they  were  all  leav- 
ing him ;  and  I  — well,  I  had  no  cause  to  love  him. 
But  I  had  taken  his  money,  I  had  accepted  his 
commission,  and  I  had  betrayed  him.  Those 
three  things  being  so,  if.  he  fell  before  I  could  — 
with  the  best  will  in  the  world  —  set  myself  right 
with  him,  so  much  the  better  for  me.  That  was 
my  gain,  the  fortune  of  war.  But  if  I  lay  hid, 
and  took  time  for  my  ally,  and  being  here  while 
he  stood  still,  —  though  tottering,  —  waited  until  he 
fell,  what  of  my  honour  then  ?  What  of  the 
grand  words  I  had  said  to  Mademoiselle  at  Agen  ? 
I  should  be  like  the  recreant  in  the  old  romance, 
who,  lying  in  the  ditch  while  the  battle  raged, 
came  out  afterwards  and  boasted  of  his  courage. 
And  yet  the  flesh  was  weak.  A  day,  twenty- 
four  hours,  two  days,  might  make  the  difference 
between  life  and  death.  At  last  I  settled  what 
I  would  do.  At  noon  the  next  day,  the  time 
at  which  I  should  have  presented  myself,  if  I 
had  not  heard  this  news,  at  that  time  I  would 
still  present  myself.  Not  earlier ;  I  owed  myself 
the  chance.  Not  later;  that  was  due  to  him. 


ST.   MARTIN'S  EVE.  321 

Having  so  settled  it,  I  thought  to  rest  in 
peace.  But  with  the  first  light  I  was  awake; 
and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  myself  quiet 
until  I  heard  Prison  stirring.  I  called  to  him 
then  to  know  if  there  was  any  news,  and  lay 
waiting  and  listening  while  he  went  down  to  the 
street  to  learn.  It  seemed  an  endless  time  before 
he  came  back;  an  age,  after  he  came  back, 
before  he  spoke. 

"Well,  he  has  not  set  off?"  I  cried  at  last, 
unable  to  control  my  eagerness. 

Of  course  he  had  not.  At  nine  o'clock  I  sent 
Frison  out  again ;  and  at  ten,  and  at  eleven  — 
always  with  the  same  result.  I  was  like  a  man 
waiting,  and  looking,  and,  above  all,  listening 
for  a  reprieve,  and  as  sick  as  any  craven.  But 
when  he  came  back  at  eleven,  I  gave  up  hope, 
and  dressed  myself  carefully.  I  suppose  I  still 
had  an  odd  look,  however;  for  Frison  stopped 
me  at  the  door  and  asked  me,  with  evident  alarm, 
whither  I  was  going. 

I  put  the  little  man  aside  gently.  "To  the 
tables,"  I  said.  "To  make  a  big  throw,  my 
friend." 


322  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

It  was  a  fine  morning;  sunny,  keen,  pleasant. 
Even  the  streets  smelled  fresh.  But  I  scarcely 
noticed  it.  All  my  thoughts  were  where  I  was 
going.  It  seemed  but  a  step  from  my  threshold 
to  the  Hotel  Richelieu.  I  was  no  sooner  gone 
from  the  one  than  I  found  myself  at  the  other. 
As  on  the  memorable  evening,  when  I  had 
crossed  the  street  in  a  drizzling  rain,  and  looked 
that  way  with  foreboding,  there  were  two  or 
three  guards  in  the  Cardinal's  livery,  loitering 
before  the  gates.  But  this  was  not  all.  Coming 
nearer,  I  found  the  opposite  pavement  under  the 
Louvre  thronged  with  people;  not  moving  about 
their  business,  but  standing  all  silent,  all  look- 
ing across  furtively,  all  with  the  air  of  persons 
who  wished  .  to  be  thought  passing  by.  Their 
silence  and  their  keen  looks  had  in  some  way 
an  air  of  menace.  Looking  back  after  I  had 
turned  in  towards  the  gates,  I  found  them  devour- 
ing me  with  their  eyes. 

Certainly  they  had  little  else  to  look  at.  In 
the  courtyard,  where  some  mornings  when  the 
court  was  in  Paris  I  had  seen  a  score  of  coaches 
waiting  and  thrice  as  many  servants,  were  now 


ST.   MARTIN'S  EVE. 


emptiness  and  sunshine  and  stillness.  The  offi- 
cer, who  stood  twisting  his  mustachios,  on  guard, 
looked  at  me  in  wonder  as  I  passed.  The  lack- 
eys lounging  in  the  portico,  and  all  too  much 
taken  up  with  whispering  to  make  a  pretence 
of  being  of  service,  grinned  at  my  appearance. 
But  that  which  happened  when  I  had  mounted 
the  stairs,  and  come  to  the  door  of  the  ante- 
chamber, outdid  all.  The  man  on  guard  there 
would  have  opened  the  door;  but  when  I  went 
to  take  advantage  of  the  offer,  and  enter,  a  major- 
domo,  who  was  standing  near,  muttering  with 
two  or  three  of  his  kind,  hastened  forward  and 
stopped  me. 

"  Your  business,  Monsieur,  if  you  please  ?  " 
he  said  inquisitively.  And  I  wondered  why  the 
others  looked  at  me  so  strangely. 

"  I  am  M.  de  Berault,"  I  answered  sharply. 
"  I  have  the  entree." 

He  bowed  politely  enough.  "Yes,  M.  de 
Berault,  I  have  the  honour  to  know  your  face," 
he  said.  "  But  pardon  me.  Have  you  business 
with  His  Eminence  ?  " 

"I   have   the   common    business,"    I    answered 

Y  2 


324  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE. 

bluntly,  "  by  which  many  of  us  live,  sirrah !  —  to 
wait  on  him." 

"But  —  by  appointment,  Monsieur?"  he  per- 
sisted. 

"  No,"  I  said,  astonished.  "  It  is  the  usual 
hour.  For  the  matter  of  that,  however,  I  have 
business  with  him." 

The  man  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  in 
apparent  embarrassment.  Then  he  stood  reluct- 
antly aside,  and  signed  to  the  door-keeper  to 
open  the  door.  I  passed  in,  uncovering,  with  an 
assured  face,  ready  to  meet  all  eyes.  Then  in  a 
moment,  on  the  threshold,  the  mystery  was 
explained. 

The  room  was  empty. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

ST.  MARTIN'S  SUMMER. 

YES,  at  the  great  Cardinal's  lev/e  I  was  the 
only  client.  I  stared  round  the  room,  a  long 
narrow  gallery,  through  which  it  was  his  custom 
to  walk  every  morning,  after  receiving  his  more 
important  visitors.  I  stared,  I  say,  round  this 
room,  in  a  state  of  stupefaction.  The  seats 
against  either  wall  were  empty,  the  recesses  of 
the  windows  empty  too.  The  hat,  sculptured 
and  painted  here  and  there,  the  staring  R,  the 
blazoned  arms,  looked  down  on  a  vacant  floor. 
Only,  on  a  little  stool  by  the  main  door,  sat  a 
quiet-faced  man  in  black,  who  read,  or  pretended 
to  read,  in  a  little  book,  and  never  looked  up. 
One  of  those  men,  blind,  deaf,  secretive,  who  fatten 
in  the  shadow  of  the  great. 

At  length,  while  I  stood  confounded  and  full 
of  shamed  thought,  —  for  I  had  seen  the  ante- 

325 


326  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

chamber  of  Richelieu's  old  hotel  so  crowded  that 
he  could  not  walk  through  it,  —  this  man  closed 
his  book,  rose,  and  came  noiselessly  towards  me. 
"M.  de  Berault?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  His  Eminence  awaits  you.  Be  good  enough 
to  follow  me." 

I  did  so,  in  a  deeper  stupor  than  before.  For 
how  could  the  Cardinal  know  that  I  was  here  ? 
How  could  he  have  known  when  he  gave  the 
order  ?  But  I  had  short  time  to  think  of  these 
things.  We  passed  through  two  rooms,  in  one 
of  which  some  secretaries  were  writing;  we 
stopped  at  a  third  door.  Over  all  brooded  a 
silence  which  could  be  felt.  The  usher  knocked, 
opened,  and  with  his  finger  on  his  lip,  pushed 
aside  a  curtain,  and  signed  to  me  to  enter.  I  did 
so,  and  found  myself  standing  behind  a  screen. 
•  "Is  that  M.  de  Berault?"  asked  a  thin,  high- 
pitched  voice. 

"Yes,  Monseigneur,"  I  answered,  trembling. 

"Then  come,  my  friend,  and  talk  to  me." 

I  went  round  the  screen ;  and  I  know  not  how 
it  was,  the  watching  crowd  outside,  the  vacant 


ST.   MARTINIS  SUMMER.  327 

antechamber  in  which  I  had  stood,  the  stillness,  — 
all  seemed  concentrated  here,  and  gave  to  the 
man  I  saw  before  me,  a  dignity  which  he  had 
never  possessed  for  me  when  the  world  passed 
through  his  doors,  and  the  proudest  fawned  on 
him  for  a  smile.  He  sat  in  a  great  chair  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  hearth,  a  little  red  skull-cap  on 
his  head,  his  fine  hands  lying  motionless  in  his  lap. 
The  collar  of  lawn  which  fell  over  his  red  cape 
was  quite  plain,  but  the  skirts  of  his  red  robe 
were  covered  with  rich  lace,  and  the  order  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  shone  on  his  breast.  Among  the 
multitudinous  papers  on  the  great  table  near  him 
I  saw  a  sword  and  pistols  lying ;  and  some  tapes- 
try that  covered  a  little  table  behind  him  failed 
to  hide  a  pair  of  spurred  riding-boots.  But  he 
—  in  spite  of  these  signs  of  trouble  —  looked 
towards  me  as  I  advanced,  with  a  face  mild  and 
almost  benign ;  a  face  in  which  I  strove  in  vain 
to  find  traces  of  last  night's  passion.  So  that  it 
flashed  across  me  that  if  this  man  really  stood  — 
and  afterwards  I  knew  he  did  —  on  the  thin 
razor-edge  between  life  and  death,  between  the 
supreme  of  earthly  power,  lord  of  France,  and 


328  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

arbiter  of  Europe,  and  the  nothingness  of  the 
clod,  he  justified  his  fame.  He  gave  weaker 
natures  no  room  for  triumph. 

The  thought  was  no  sooner  entertained  than 
it  was  gone.  "And  so  you  are  back  at  last, 
M.  de  Berault?"  he  said,  gently.  "I  have  been 
expecting  to  see  you  since  nine  this  morning." 

"Your  Eminence  knew  then — "  I  muttered. 

"That  you  returned  to  Paris  by  the  Orleans 
gate  last  evening,  alone  ? "  He  fitted  together 
the  ends  of  his  fingers,  and  looked  at  me  over 
them  with  inscrutable  eyes.  "Yes,  I  knew  all 
that  last  night.  And  now  of  your  mission  ?  You 
have  been  faithful,  and  diligent,  I  am  sure. 
Where  is  he?" 

I  stared  at  him,  and  was  dumb.  Somehow  the 
strange  things  I  had  seen  since  I  left  my  lodg- 
ing, the  surprises  I  had  found  awaiting  me  here, 
had  driven  my  own  fortunes,  my  own  peril,  out 
of  my  head,  until  this  moment.  Now,  at  his 
question,  all  returned  with  a  rush.  My  heart 
heaved  suddenly  in  my  breast.  I  strove  for  a 
savour  of  the  old  hardihood ;  but  for  the  moment 
I  could  not  find  a  word. 


.  ST.   MARTINIS  SUMMER.  329 

"Well?"  he  said  lightly,  a  faint  smile  lifting 
his  mustache.  "  You  do  not  speak.  You  left 
Auch  with  him  on  the  twenty-fourth,  M.  de 
Berault.  So  much  I  know.  And  you  reached 
Paris  without  him  last  night.  He  has  not  given 
you  the  slip  ? "  with  sudden  animation. 

"No,  Monseigneur,"  I  muttered. 

"Ha!  That  is  good,"  he  answered,  sinking 
back  again  in  his  chair.  "  For  the  moment  — 
but  I  knew  I  could  depend  on  you.  And  now 
where  is  he  ? "  he  continued.  "  What  have  you 
done  with  him  ?  He  knows  much,  and  the  sooner 
I  know  it,  the  better.  Are  your  people  bringing 
him,  M.  de  Berault?" 

"  No,  Monseigneur,"  I  stammered,  with  dry 
lips.  His  very  good  humour,  his  benignity, 
appalled  me.  I  knew  how  terrible  would  be  the 
change,  how  fearful  his  rage,  when  I  should  tell 
him  the  truth.  And  yet  that  I,  Gil  de  Berault, 
should  tremble  before  any  man !  I  spurred  my- 
self, as  it  were,  to  the  task.  "No,  Your  Emi- 
nence," I  said,  with  the  courage  of  despair.  "I 
have  not  brought  him,  because  I  have  set  him 
free." 


330  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"Because  you  have  —  what?"  he  exclaimed. 
He  leaned  forward,  his  hands  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair;  and  his  glittering  eyes,  growing  each 
instant  smaller,  seemed  to  read  my  soul. 

"  Because  I  have  let  him  go,"  I  repeated. 

"  And  why  ? "  he  said,  in  a  voice  like  the 
rasping  of  a  file. 

"Because  I  took  him  unfairly,"  I  answered 
desperately.  "  Because,  Monseigneur,  I  am  a 
gentleman,  and  this  task  should  have  been  given 
to  one  who  was  not.  I  took  him,  if  you  must 
know,"  I  continued  impatiently,  —  the  fence  once 
crossed,  I  was  growing  bolder,  —  "  by  dogging  a 
woman's  steps,  and  winning  her  confidence,  and 
betraying  it.  And,  whatever  I  have  done  ill  in 
my  life,  —  of  which  you  were  good  enough  to 
throw  something  in  my  teeth  when  I  was  last 
here,  —  I  have  never  done  that,  and  I  will  not!" 

"  And  so  you  set  him  free  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  After  you  had  brought  him  to  Auch  ? " 

"Yes." 

"And  in  point  of  fact  saved  him  from  falling 
into  the  hands  of  the  commandant  at  Auch  ? " 


ST.   MARTIN'S  SUMMER.  331 

"Yes,"  I  answered  desperately. 

"  Then  what  of  the  trust  I  placed  in  you, 
sirrah  ? "  he  rejoined,  in  a  terrible  voice ;  and 
stooping  still  farther  forward,  he  probed  me 
with  his  eyes.  "You  who  prate  of  trust  and 
confidence,  who  received  your  life  on  parole, 
and  but  for  your  promise  to  me  would  have  been 
carrion  this  month  past,  answer  me  that !  What 
of  the  trust  I  placed  in  you  ? " 

"  The  answer  is  simple,"  I  said,  shrugging  my 
shoulders  with  a  touch  of  my  old  self.  "  I  am 
here  to  pay  the  penalty." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  I  do  not  know  why  ? " 
he  retorted,  striking  his  one  hand  on  the  arm 
of  the  chair  with  a  force  which  startled  me. 
"  Because  you  have  heard,  Sir,  that  my  power 
is  gone !  That  I,  who  was  yesterday  the  King's 
right  hand,  am  to-day  dried  up,  withered,  and 
paralyzed !  Because  —  but  have  a  care  !  Have 
a  care !  "  he  continued  not  loudly,  but  in  a  voice 
like  a  dog's  snarl.  "  You,  and  those  others ! 
Have  a  care  I  say,  or  you  may  find  yourselves 
mistaken  yet ! " 

"  As    Heaven    shall    judge   me,"    I    answered 


332  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

solemnly,  "that  is  not  true.  Until  I  reached 
Paris  last  night  I  knew  nothing  of  this  report. 
I  came  here  with  a  single  mind,  to  redeem  my 
honour  by  placing  again  in  Your  Eminence's 
hands  that  which  you  gave  me  on  trust." 

For  a  moment  he  remained  in  the  same  atti- 
tude, staring  at  me  fixedly.  Then  his  face  some- 
what relaxed.  "  Be  good  enough  to  ring  that 
bell,"  he  said. 

It  stood  on  a  table  near  me.  I  rang  it,  and 
a  velvet-footed  man  in  black  came  in,  and  gliding 
up  to  the  Cardinal  placed  a  paper  in  his  hand. 
The  Cardinal  looked  at  it  while  the  man  stood 
with  his  head  obsequiously  bent;  my  heart  beat 
furiously.  "Very  good,"  the  Cardinal  said,  after 
a  pause,  which  seemed  to  me  to  be  endless. 
"  Let  the  doors  be  thrown  open." 

The  man  bowed  low,  and  retired  behind  the 
screen.  I  heard  a  little  bell  ring,  somewhere  in 
the  silence,  and  in  a  moment  the  Cardinal  stood 
up.  "  Follow  me  !  "  he  said,  with  a  strange  flash 
of  his  keen  eyes. 

Astonished,  I  stood  aside  while  he  passed  to 
the  screen;  then  I  followed  him.  Outside  the 


ST.   MARTINIS  SUMMER.  333 

first  door,  which  stood  open,  we  found  eight 
or  nine  persons,  —  pages,  a  monk,  the  major-domo, 
and  several  guards  waiting  like  mutes.  These 
signed  to  me  to  precede  them,  and  fell  in  behind 
us,  and  in  that  order  we  passed  through  the  first 
room  and  the  second,  where  the  clerks  stood 
with  bent  heads  to  receive  us.  The  last  door, 
the  door  of  the  antechamber,  flew  open  as  we 
approached ;  a  score  of  voices  cried,  "  Place ! 
Place  for  His  Eminence !  "  We  passed  without 
pause  through  two  lines  of  bowing  lackeys,  and 
entered  —  an  empty  room  ! 

The  ushers  did  not  know  how  to  look  at  one 
another.  The  lackeys  trembled  in  their  shoes. 
But  the  Cardinal  walked  on,  apparently  unmoved, 
until  he  had  passed  slowly  half  the  length  of 
the  chamber.  Then  he  turned  himself  about, 
looking  first  to  one  side,  and  then  to  another, 
with  a  low  laugh  of  derision.  "  Father,"  he  said, 
in  his  thin  voice,  "  what  does  the  psalmist  say  ? 
'  I  am  become  like  a  pelican  in  the  wilderness, 
and  like  an  owl  that  is  in  the  desert ! '  " 

The  monk  mumbled  assent. 

"And  later,  in  the  same  psalm  is  it  not  writ- 


334  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

ten,  '  They  shall  perish,  but  thou  shalt  en- 
dure ! ' " 

"It  is  so,"  the  father  answered.     "Amen." 

"  Doubtless  that  refers  to  anothec  life,"  the 
Cardinal  continued,  with  his  slow,  wintry  smile. 
"  In  the  meantime  we  will  go  back  to  our  books 
and  our  prayers,  and  serve  God  and  the  King 
in  small  things,  if  not  in  great.  Come,  father, 
this  is  no  longer  a  place  for  us.  Vanitas  vani- 
tattim  ;  omnia  vanitas  !  We  will  retire." 

So,  as  solemnly  as  we  had  come,  we  marched 
back  through  the  first  and  second  and  third 
doors,  until  we  stood  again  in  the  silence  of  the 
Cardinal's  chamber;  he  and  I  and  the  velvet- 
footed  man  in  black.  For  a  while  Richelieu 
seemed  to  forget  me.  He  stood  brooding  on 
the  hearth,  with  his  eyes  on  the  embers.  Once 
I  heard  him  laugh;  and  twice  he  uttered  in  a 
tone  of  bitter  mockery,  the  words,  "  Fools ! 
Fools!  Fools!" 

At  last  he  looked  up,  saw  me,  and  started. 
"Ah!"  he  said.  "I  had  forgotten  you.  Well, 
you  are  fortunate,  M.  de  Berault.  Yesterday 
I  had  a  hundred  clients.  To-day  I  have  only 


ST.  MARTINIS  SUMMER.  335 

one,  and  I  cannot  afford  to  hang  him.  But  for 
your  liberty  —  that  is  another  matter." 

I  would  have  said  something,  but  he  turned 
abruptly  to  the  table,  and  sitting  down  wrote  a 
few  lines  on  a  piece  of  paper.  Then  he  rang 
his  bell,  while  I  stood  waiting  and  confounded. 

The  man  in  black  came  from  behind  the  screen. 
"Take  that  letter  and  this  gentleman  to  the 
upper  guard-room,"  His  Eminence  said  sharply. 
"  I  can  hear  no  more,"  he  continued  wearily, 
raising  his  hand  to  forbid  interruption.  "The 
matter  is  ended,  M.  de  Berault.  Be  thankful." 

And  in  a  moment  I  was  outside  the  door,  my 
head  in  a  whirl,  my  heart  divided  between  grati- 
tude and  resentment.  Along  several  passages 
I  followed  my  guide ;  everywhere  finding  the 
same  silence,  the  same  monastic  stillness.  At 
length,  when  I  had  begun  to  consider  whether 
the  Bastile  or  the  Chatelet  would  be  my  fate, 
he  stopped  at  a  door,  gave  me  the  letter,  and, 
lifting  the  latch,  signed  to  me  to  enter. 

I  went  in  in  amazement,  and  stopped  in  con- 
fusion. Before  me,  alone,  just  risen  from  a 
chair,  with  her  face  one  moment  pale,  the  next 


336  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

red  with  blushes,  stood  Mademoiselle  de  Coche- 
foret.  I  cried  out  her  name. 

"  M.  de  Berault !  "  she  said,  visibly  trembling. 
"You  did  not  expect  to  see  me?" 

"  I  expected  to  see  no  one  so  little,  Made- 
moiselle," I  answered,  striving  to  recover  my 
composure. 

"Yet  you  might  have  thought  that  we  should 
not  utterly  desert  you,"  she  replied,  with  a 
reproachful  humility  which  went  to  my  heart. 
"We  should  have  been  base  indeed,  if  we  had 
not  made  some  attempt  to  save  you.  I  thank 
Heaven  that  it  has  so  far  succeeded  that  that 
strange  man  has  promised  me  your  life.  You 
have  seen  him  ? "  she  continued  eagerly,  and  in 
another  tone,  while  her  eyes  grew  suddenly  large 
with  fear. 

"  Yes,  Mademoiselle,  I  have  seen  him,"  I  said. 
"And  he  has  given  me  my  life." 

"And?" 

"And  sent  me  to  imprisonment." 

"  For  how  long  ?  "   she  whispered. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  I  answered.  "  I  expect,  dur- 
ing the  King's  pleasure." 


ST.   MARTINIS  SUMMER.  337 

She  shuddered.  "  I  may  have  done  more  harm 
than  good,"  she  murmured,  looking  at  me  pite- 
ously.  "  But  I  did  it  for  the  best.  I  told  him 
all,  and  —  yes,  perhaps  I  did  harm." 

But  to  hear  her  accuse  herself  thus,  when  she 
had  made  this  long  and  lonely  journey  to  save 
me ;  when  she  had  forced  herself  into  her  enemy's 
presence,  and  had,  as  I  was  sure  she  had,  abased 
herself  for  me,  was  more  than  I  could  bear. 
"  Hush,  Mademoiselle,  hush ! "  I  said,  almost 
roughly.  "You  hurt  me.  You  have  made  me 
happy :  and  yet  I  wish  that  you  were  not  here, 
where  I  fear  you  have  few  friends,  but  back 
at  Cocheforet.  You  have  done  more  than  I 
expected,  and  a  hundred  times  more  than  I  de- 
served. But  I  was  a  ruined  man  before  this 
happened.  I  am  no  more  now,  but  I  am  still 
that;  and  I  would  not  have  your  name  pinned 
to  mine  on  Paris  lips.  Therefore,  good-bye.  God 
forbid  I  should  say  more  to  you,  or  let  you  stay 
where  foul  tongues  would  soon  malign  you." 

She  looked  at  me  in  a  kind  of  wonder;  then 
with  a  growing  smile,  "  It  is  too  late,"  she  said 
gently. 


338  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

"  Too  late  ?  "  I  exclaimed.  "  How,  Mademoi- 
selle ? " 

"Because  —  do  you  remember,  M.  de  Berault, 
what  you  told  me  of  your  love  story,  by  Agen  ? 
That  it  could  have  no  happy  ending?  For  the 
same  reason  I  was  not  ashamed  to  tell  mine  to  the 
Cardinal.  By  this  time  it  is  common  property." 

I  looked  at  her  as  she  stood  facing  me.  Her 
eyes  shone,  but  they  were  downcast.  Her  figure 
drooped,  and  yet  a  smile  trembled  on  her  lips. 
"What  did  you  tell  him,  Mademoiselle?"  I 
whispered,  my  breath  coming  quickly. 

"That  I  loved,"  she  answered  boldly,  raising 
her  clear  eyes  to  mine.  "  And  therefore  that  I 
was  not  ashamed  to  beg,  even  on  my  knees.  Nor 
ashamed  to  be  with  my  lover,  even  in  prison." 

I  fell  on  my  knees,  and  caught  her  hand  before 
the  last  word  passed  her  lips.  For  the  moment 
I  forgot  King  and  Cardinal,  prison  and  the  future, 
all — all  except  that  this  woman,  so  pure  and 
so  beautiful,  so  far  above  me  in  all  things,  loved 
me.  For  the  moment,  I  say.  Then  I  remem- 
bered myself.  I  stood  up  and  thrust  her  from 
me,  in  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling.  "You  do 


ST.  MARTINIS  SUMMER,  339 

not  know  me,"  I  said.  "  You  do  not  know  me. 
You  do  not  know  what  I  have  done." 

"  That  is  what  I  do  know,"  she  answered,  look- 
ing at  me  with  a  wondrous  smile. 

"Ah,  but  you  do  not,"  I  cried.  "And  besides, 
there  is  this  —  this  between  us."  And  I  picked 
up  the  Cardinal's  letter.  It  had  fallen  on  the 
floor. 

She  turned  a  shade  paler.  Then  she  said, 
"  Open  it !  Open  it !  It  is  not  sealed,  nor 
closed." 

I  obeyed  mechanically,  dreading  what  I  might 
see.  Even  when  I  had  it  open  I  looked  at  the 
finely  scrawled  characters  with  eyes  askance.  But 
at  last  I  made  it  out.  It  ran  thus :  — 

"The  King's  pleasure  is,  that  M.  de  Berault,  having  mixed 
himself  up  with  affairs  of  state,  retire  forthwith  to  the  manor 
of  Cocheforet,  and  confine  himself  within  its  limits,  until 

the  King's  pleasure  be  further  known. 

"  RICHELIEU." 

On  the  next  day  we  were  married.  The  same 
evening  we  left  Paris,  and  I  retraced,  in  her  com- 
pany, the  road  which  I  had  twice  traversed  alone 

and  in  heaviness. 

z  2 


340  UNDER   THE  RED  ROBE. 

A  fortnight  later  we  were  at  Cocheforet,  in  the 
brown  woods  under  the  southern  mountains ;  and 
the  great  Cardinal,  once  more  triumphant  over 
his  enemies,  saw,  with  cold,  smiling  eyes,  the 
world  pass  through  his  chamber.  The  flood-tide, 
which  then  set  in,  lasted  thirteen  years ;  in  brief, 
until  his  death.  For  the  world  had  learned  its 
lesson,  and  was  not  to  be  deceived  a  second  time. 
To  this  hour  they  call  that  day,  which  saw  me 
stand  for  all  his  friends,  "The  day  of  Dupes." 


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with  the  minuteness  and  lovingness  of  a  first  story  which  has  grown  up  in  the  mind  of  the 
author  for  years.  .  .  .  Marie  Wort  is  one  of  the  bravest  souls  that  ever  moved  quietly 
along  the  pages  of  a  novel.  She  is  so  unlike  the  other  feminine  characters  whom  Weyman 
has  drawn  that  the  difference  is  striking  and  adds  significance  to  this  one  book.  .  .  . 
'  My  Lady  Rotha  '  is  full  of  fascinating  interest,  all  the  more  remarkable  in  a  work  adhering* 
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tion is  unique  and  striking,  and  the  culmination  unexpected.  The  author  is  so  saturated 
with  the  spirit  of  the  times  of  which  he  writes,  that  he  merges  his  personality  in  that  of  the 
supposititious  narrator,  and  the  virtues  and  failings  of  his  men  and  w^men  are  set  forth  in  a 
fashion  which  is  captivating  from  its  very  simplicity.  It  is  one  of  his  best  novels." 

— PUBLIC  OPINION, 

"Readers  of  Mr.  Weyman's  novels  will  have  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  his  just  pub- 
lished '  My  Lady  Rotha  '  in  every  way  his  greatest  and  most  artistic  production.  We 
know  of  nothing  mote  fit,  both  in  conception  and  execution,  to  be  classed  with  the  immortal 
Waverleys  than  this  his  latest  work.  ...  A  story  true  to  life  and  true  to  the  times 
which  Mr.  Weyman  has  made  such  a  careful  study."  — THE  ADVERTISER.  BOSTON. 

"  No  one  of  Mr.  Weyman's  books  is  better  than  '  My  Lady  Rotha  '  unless  it  be  '  Under 
the  Red  Robe,'  and  those  who  have  learned  to  like  his  stories  of  the  old  days  when  might 
made  right  will  cppreciate  it  thoroughly.  It  is  a  good  book  to  read  and  read  again." 

— NEW  YORK  WORLD. 

"...  As  good  a  tale  of  adventure  as  any  one  need  ask  ;  the  picture  of  those  war- 
like times  it  an  excellent  one,  full  of  life  and  color,  the  blare  of  trumpets  and  the  flash  of 
steel — and  toward  the  close  the  description  of  the  besieged  city  of  Nuremberg  and  of  the 
battle  under  Wallenstein's  entrenchments  is  masterly.'1 — BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 

"The  loveliest  and  most  admirable  character  in  the  story  is  that  of  a  young  Catholic  girl, 
while  in  painting  the  cruelties  and  savage  barbarities  of  war  at  that  period  the  brush  is  held 
by  an  impartial  hand.  Books  of  adventure  and  romance  are  apt  to  be  cheap  and  sensational.1 
Mr.  Weyman's  stories  are  worth  tons  of  such  stuff.  They  are  thrilling,  exciting,  absorbing, 
interesting,  and  yet  clear,  strong,  and  healthy  in  tone,  written  by  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of 
sense  and  taste." — SACRED  HEART  REVIEW,  BOSTON. 

"  Mr.  Wryman  has  outdone  himself  in  this  remarkable  book.  .  .  .  The  whole  story 
is  told  with  consummate  skill.  The  plot  is  artistically  devised  and  enrolled  before  the  read- 
er's eyes.  The  language  is  simple  and  apt,  and  the  descriptions  are  graphic  and  terse.  The 
charm  of  the  story  takes  hold  of  the  reader  on  the  very  first  page,  and  holds  him  spell-bound 
to  the  very  end." — NEW  ORLEANS  PICAYUNE. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  15  EAST  16th  STREET,  NEW  YOKE. 


UNDER    THE    RED    ROBE. 

A    ROMANCE. 

BY   STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE,"  "THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF,"  ETC. 


With    12  Full-page  Illustrations  by  R.  Caton  Woodville. 
1  2mo,  Linen   Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


a  story  tluit  one  cannot  plaimy  see  me  enu  ui  iium  simpler  i.  me  story  reveals 

a  knowledge  of  French  character  and  French  landscape  that  was  surely  never  ac- 
quired at  second  hand.  The  beginning  is  wonderfully  interesting."—  NEW  YORK  TIMES. 

"  As  perfect  a  novel  of  the  new  school  of  fiction  as  '  Ivanhoe  '  or  '  Henry  Esmond  ' 
was  of  theirs.  Each  later  story  has  shown  a  marked  advance  in  strength  and  treat- 
ment, and  in  the  last  Mr.  Weyman  .  .  .  demonstrates  that  he  has  no  superior 
among  living  novelists.  .  .  .  There  are  but  two  characters  in  the  story  —  his  art 
makes  all  other  but  unnoticed  shadows  cast  by  them  —  and  the  attention  is  so  keenly 
fixed  upon  one  or  both,  from  the  first  word  to  the  last,  that  we  live  in  their  thoughts 
and  see  the  drama  unfolded  through  their  eyes."  —  N.  Y.  WORLD. 

"  It  was  bold  to  take  Richelieu  and  his  time  as  a  subject  and  thus  to  challenge  com- 
parison with  Dumas's  immortal  musketeers;  but  the  result  justifies  the  boldness.  .  .  . 
The  plot  is  admirably  clear  and  strong,  the  diction  singularly  concise  and  telling,  and 
the  stirring  events  are  so  managed  as  not  to  degenerate  into  sensationalism.  Few 
better  novels  of  adventure  than  this  have  ever  been  written."  —  OUTLOOK,  NEW  YORK. 

"  A  wonderfully  brilliant  and  thrilling  romance.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman  has  a  positive 
talent  for  concise  dramatic  narration.  Every  phrase  tells,  and  the  characters  stano 
out  with  life-like  distinctness.  Some  of  the  most  fascinating  epochs  in  French  history 
have  been  splendidly  illuminated  by  his  novels,  which  are  to  be  reckoned  among  the 
notable  successes  of  later  nineteenth-century  fiction.  This  story  of'  Under  the  Red 
Robe  '  is  in  its  way  one  of  the  very  best  things  he  has  done.  It  is  illustrated  with 
vigor  and  appropriateness  from  twelve  full-page  designs  by  R.  Caton  Woodville." 

—  BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  It  is  a  skillfully  drawn  picture  of  the  times,  drawn  in  simple  and  transparent 
English,  and  quivering  with  tense  human  feeling  from  the  first  word  to  the  last.  It  is 
not  a  book  that  can  be  laid  down  at  the  middle  of  it.  The  reader  once  caught  in  its 
whirl  can  no  more  escape  from  it  than  a  ship  from  the  maelstrom." 

—  PICAYUNE,  NEW  ORLEANS. 

"The  'red  robe'  refers  to  Cardinal  Richelieu,  in  whose  day  the  story  is  laid. 
The  descriptions  of  his  court,  his  judicial  machinations  and  ministrations,  his  partial 
defeat,  stand  out  from  the  book  as  vivid  as  flame  against  a  background  of  snow.  For 
the  rest,  the  book  is  clever  and  interesting,  ana  overflowing  with  heroic  incident. 
Stanley  Weyman  is  an  author  who  has  apparently  come  to  stay."  —  CHICAGO  POST. 

"  In  this  story  Mr.  Weyman  returns  to  the  scene  of  his  '  Gentleman  of  France,' 
although  his  new  heroes  are  of  different  mould.  The  book  is  full  of  adventure  and 
characterized  by  a  deeper  study  of  character  than  its  predecessor." 

—  WASHINGTON  POST. 

"  Mr.  Weyman  has  quite  topped  his  first  success.  .  .  .  The  author  artfully 
ursues  the  line  on  which  his  happy  initial  venture  was  laid.  We  have  in  Berault,  the 
ero,  a  more  impressive  Marsac  ;  an  accomplished  duelist,  telling  the  tale  of  his  own 
adventures,  he  first  repels  and  finally  attracts  us.  He  is  at  once  the  tool  of  Richelieu, 
and  a  man  of  honor.  Here  is  a  noteworthy  romance,  full  of  thrilling  incident  set  down 
by  a  master-hand."  —  PHILADELPHIA  PRESS. 


p 
h 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  00.,  15  EAST  16th  STREET,  NEW  YORE.. 


A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE 

Being  the  Memoirs  of  Gaston  de  Bonne, 
Sieur  de  Marsac. 

BY  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR    OF   "THE    HOUSE    OF  THE    WOLF,"   ETC. 


With  Frontispiece  and  Vignette  by  H.  J.  Ford. 
1  2mo,  Cloth,   Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"One  of  the  best  novels  since  'Lorna  Doone.'  It  will  be  read  and  then  re-read  for  the 
mere  pleasure  its  reading  gives.  The  subtle  charm  of  it  is  not  m  merely  transporting  the 
nineteenth-century  reader  to  the  sixteenth,  that  he  may  see  life  as  it  was  then,  but  in  trans- 
forming him  into  a  sixteenth-century  man,  thinking  its  thoughts,  and  living  its  life  in  perfect 
touch  and  sympathy  ...  it  carries  the  reader  out  of  his  present  life,  giving  him  a  new 
and  totally  different  existence  that  rests  and  refreshes  him." — N.  Y.  WORLD. 

"  No  novelist  outside  of  France  has  displayed  a  more  definite  comprehension  of  the  very 
essence  of  mediaeval  French  life,  and  no  one,  certainly,  has  been  able  to  set  forth  a  depiction 
of  it  in  colors  so  vivid  and  so  entirely  in  consonance  with  the  truth.  .  .  .  The  characters 
in  the  tale  are  admirably  drawn,  and  the  narrative  is  nothing  less  than  fascinating  in  its  fine 
flavor  of  adventure." — BEACON,  BOSTON. 

"  We  hardly  know  whether  to  call  this  latest  work  of  Stanley  J.  Weyman  a  historical 
,omance  or  a  story  of  adventure.  It  has  all  the  interesting,  fascinating  and  thrilling  charac- 
teristics of  both.  The  scene  is  in  France,  and  the  time  is  that  fateful  eventful  one  which 


— ADVERTISER,  BOSTON. 

"  A  romance  after  the  style  of  Dumas  the  elder,  and  well  worthy  of  being  read  by  those 
who  can  enjoy  stirring  adventures  told  in  true  romantic  fashion.  .  .  .  The  great  person- 
ages of  the  time — Henry  III.  of  Valois,  Henry  IV.,  Rosny,  Rambouillet,  Turenne — are 
brought  in  skillfully,  and  the  tragic  and  varied  history  of  the  time  forms  a  splendid  frame  in 
which  to  set  the  picture  of  Marsac's  love  and  courage  .  .  .  the  troublous  days  are  well 
described  and  the  interest  is  genuine  and  lasting,  for  up  to  the  very  end  the  author  manages 
effects  which  impel  the  reader  to  go  on  with  renewed  curiosity." — THE  NATION. 

"  A  genuine  and  admirable  piece  of  work.  .  .  .  The  reader  will  not  turn  many  pages 
before  he  finds  himself  in  the  grasp  of  a  writer  who  holds  his  attention  to  the  very  last  mo- 
ment of  the  story.  The  spirit  of  adventure  pervades  the  whole  from  beginning  to  end.  .  .  . 

It  may  be  said  that  the  narration  is  a  delightful  love  story.  The  interest  of  the  reader 
is  constantly  excited  by  the  development  of  unexpected  turns  in  the  relation  of  the  principal 
lovers.  The  romance  lies  against  a  background  of  history  truly  painted.  .  .  .  Th< 
descriptions  of  the  court  life  of  the  period  and  of  the  factional  strifes,  divisions,  hatreds  of  th* 
age,  are  fine.  .  .  .  This  story  of  those  times  is  worthy  of  a  very  high  place  among  histori 
cal  novels  of  recent  years." — PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"  Bold,  strong,  dashing,  it  is  one  of  the  best  we  have  read  for  many  years.  We  sat  down 
for  a  cursory  perusal,  and  ended  by  reading  it  delightedly  through.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman 
has  much  of  the  vigor  and  rush  of  incident  of  Dr.  Conan  Doyle,  and  this  book  ranks  worthily 
beside  '  The  White  Company.'  .  .  .  We  very  cordially  recommend  this  book  to  the  jaded 
novel  reader  who  cares  for  manly  actions  more  than  for  morbid  introspection." 

— THE  CHURCHMAN. 

"The  book  is  not  only  good  literature,  it  is  a  'rattling  good  story,'  instinct  with  the 
spirit  of  true  adventure  and  stirring  emotion.  Of  love  and  peril,  intrigue  and  fighting,  there 
is  plenty,  and  many  scenes  could  not  have  been  bettered.  In  all  his  adventures,  and  they 
are  many,  Marsac  acts  as  befits  his  epoch  and  his  own  modest  yet  gallant  personality.  Well' 
known  historical  figures  emerge  in  telling  fashion  under  Mr.  Weyman's  discriminating  and 
fascinating  touch." — ATHENAEUM. 

"I  cannot  fancy  any  reader,  old  or  young,  not  sharing  with  doughty  Crillon  his  admiration 
for  M.  de  Marsac,  who,  though  no  swashbuckler,  has  a  sword  that  leaps  from  its  scabbard  at  the 
breath  of  insult.  .  .  .  There  are  several  historical  personages  in  the  novel ;  there  is,  of 
course,  a  heroine,  of  great  beauty  and  enterprise;  but  that  true  'Gentleman  of  France,' 
M.  dc  Marsac,  with  his  perseverance  and  valor,  dominates  them  all." 

— Mr.  JAMES  PAYN  in  the  ILLUSTRATED  LONDON  NEWS. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  15  EAST  16th  STKEET,  NEW  YOKE, 


DOREEN. 

THE    STORY    OF    A    SINGER. 

BY  EDNA  LYALL, 

AUTHOR  OF  "WE  TWO,"  "DONOVAN,"  "THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  SLANDE*, 
"IN  THE  GOLDEN  DAYS,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


Crown  8vo,  Buckram  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.5O. 

"Edna  Lyall  has  evidently  made  a  close  study  of  the  Irish  question,  and  she  sees 
Its  varying  aspects  and  problems  with  a  desire  to  do  justice  to  all,  while  she  stands 
firmly  on  her  own  principles.  .  .  .  There  is  much  to  recommend  in  Edna  Lyall's 
books,  and  her  admirers  are  many.  The  book  will  be  read  with  interest.  .  .  .  It  is 
yet  well  written  and  comprehensive,  treating  of  universal  principles  in  a  broad  way 
and  presenting  characters  in  whom  one  becomes  interested  for  their  own  sake." 

—LITERARY  WORLD,  Boston. 

"  A  plot  which  has  original  life  and  vigor.  .  .  .  Altogether  a  good  novel,  and  if 
the  author  has  written  nothing  else  she  could  safely  rest  her  literary  reputation  on 
'  Doreen.'  " — PUBLIC  OPINION,  N.  Y. 

"Edna  Lyall's  .  .  .  new  story  .  .  .  is  one  of  her  best.  It  has,  naturally, 
enough  of  tragedy  to  make  it  intensely  interesting  without  being  sensational  in  ar.y 
offensive  sense.  The  heroine,  Doreen,  is  a  delightful  character,  sturdy,  strong,  lovable, 
womanly,  and  genuinely  Irish.  Miss  Bayly  is  a  conscientious  writer,  imbued  -.r'th 
deep  feeling,  a  high  purpose,  and  her  style  is  attractive  and  pure." 

— BOSTON  DAILY  ADVERTISER. 

"  The  heroine  is  a  most  winsome  Irish  maiden  with  an  exquisite  voice,  and  she 
comes  bravely  out  of  the  involved  dramatic  situation  in  which  she  is  placed  by  an  early 
vow." — PRESS,  Philadelphia. 

"  It  is  a  very  clever  story  indeed,  and  skillfully  written.  The  heroine  is  a  bright 
and  beautiful  Irish  girl,  and  a  musician." — NEW  ORLEANS  PICAYUNE. 

"A  very  interesting  story  and  is  full  of  interesting  and  exciting  incidents,  and  its 
characters  are  well  drawn  and  sustained  throughout  the  book.  It  is  tastefully  bound, 
and  will  doubtless  prove  popular  with  this  writer's  many  admirers." 

—PORTLAND  ADVERTISER. 

"Doreen,  the  heroine  of  this  latest  novel  of  Edna  Lyall,  is  an  Irish  girl,  gentle, 
kind,  and  modest,  but  brave,  resolute,  and  unflinching  when  there  is  a  question  of 
those  whom  she  loves,  of  right  or  wrong,  or  of  the  welfare  of  the  country  which  she 
holds  dearest  of  all.  .  .  .  The  book  is  thoroughly  wholesome,  good,  and  interesting. 
Miss  Lyall  writes  of  Ireland,  of  Irish  ways  and  feelings,  as  well  as  of  Catholic  beliefs 
and  customs,  with  knowledge  and  sympathy.  .  .  .  The  volume  is  tastefully  bound 
...  well  printed  and  convenient  to  handle  and  to  read." 

— THE  SACRED  HEART  REVIEW,  Boston. 

"  The  heroine,  clever,  patriotic,  self-denying,  is  worthy  of  the  name,  and  the  hero 
is  equally  excellent.  ...  An  interesting  novel,  a  good  picture  of  a  bright,  pure- 
minded,  high-hearted  heroine." — BOSTON  PILOT. 

"  This  is  perhaps  one  of  the  best  of  Edna  Lyall's  clever  stories.  Doreen  is  a  young 
Irish  girl,  who  loves  her  native  land,  and  who  is  a  credit  to  her  race.  .  .  .  Inier- 
woven  with  the  story  of  her  experience  and  of  her  love  for  a  young  Englishman  is  an 
interesting  account  of  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  Home  Rule  movement.  Miss  Lyall's 
book  is  a  charming  tale,  and  will  not  fail  to  delight  every  one  who  reads  it.  The  girl 
Doreen  is  a  beautiful  character." — CATHOLIC  NEWS. 

"The  time  is  the  present,  the  scene  is  laid  in  Ireland  and  England,  and  Doreen^ 
the  heroine,  is  a  charming  Irish  girl,  devoted  to  her  country1  and  her  oppressed 
countrymen.  .  .  .  The  story  is  attractively  told  and  a  very  impartial  view  of  tht 
Irish  question  is  taken.  .  .  .  Doreen  is  a  most  attractive  character,  refreshingly 
simple  and  natural,  and  yet  with  a  decided  personality  of  her  own.  ...  A  whole- 
some, well-written  story,  and  free  from  any  touch  of  atheism." — CHICAGO  INTER-OCEAN. 


LONGMANS,  GKEEN,  &  CO.,  15  EAST  16th  STEEET,  NEW  YOKE. 


THE  MATCHMAKER, 

A    NOVEL. 

BY  MRS.  L.   B.  WALFORD. 


Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.5O. 


"  A  new  novel  by  the  author  of  '  The  Baby's  Grandmother '  and  '  Mr.  Smith '  is  always 
eagerly  anticipated  by  those  who  enjoy  a  love  story  told  with  a  charming  freshness  of  style, 
with  a  satirical  yet  good-natured  treatment  of  human  foibles,  and  with  a  vivid,  witty,  and 
animating  use  of  that  sentiment  which  '  makes  the  world  go  round.'  .  .  .  '  The  Match- 
maker '  gives  a  piquant  hint  of  the  plot.  It  will  be  found  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  its 
author's  works,  and  comes  in  good  time  to  amuse  people  worn  by  summer  weather." 

— NEW  YORK  TRIBUNE. 

"  We  are  sure  that  anything  from  the  pen  of  L.  B.  Walford  will  be  interesting  and 
original.  There  is  always  enough  romance  about  these  novels  to  keep  them  from  any  sign  of 
dullness,  and  they  always  include  some  very  uncommon  types  well  worth  studying.  The 
Carnoustie  family  in  the  present  instance  is  one  to  keep  the  reader  constantly  on  the  qui 
•vive  ...  a  well-told,  entertaining  story  of  interesting  people." 

— DETROIT  FREE  PRESS. 

"Sure  to  find  a  large  circle  of  refined  and  intelligent  readers.  The  story  is  constantly 
lighted  up  with  touches  of  humor,  and  the  picture  of  simple  family  life  and  the  feminine  occu- 
pations it  affords  is  natural  and  entertaining." — BEACON,  BOSTON. 

"...  A  fresh  and  interesting  picture  of  life  in  a  Scottish  castle,  and  introduces 
many  characters  notable  for  the  faithfulness  to  nature  with  which  they  are  drawn.  The  inci- 
dents are  interesting  enough  to  fix  the  attention  of  the  reader  and  to  hold  it  until  the  closing 
chapter.'' — THE  ADVERTISER,  PORTLAND. 

"  Tells  what  befell  a  gay  London  girl  during;  her  six  months'  sojourn  in  the  Scotch  castle 
of  some  old  fashioned  relatives.  .  .  .  The  story  is  a  good  one,  much  the  best  of  it  being 
the  delineation  of  the  stiff-necked  Carnoustie  family,  and  its  magisterial  dowager  and  its 
pathetic  and  comical  old  maids."— BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 


NOVELS   BY   MRS.   L.   B.  WALFORD. 


In  Uniform  Binding1.    Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  each  Volume,  $  1  .OO. 


COUSINS. 

THE    BABY'S     GRAND- 
MOTHER. 


PAULINE.  DICK    NETHERBY. 


NAN. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  A  WEEK. 


TROUBLESOME       DAUGH- 


MR.   SMITH. 


A      STIFF-NECKED       GEN- 
ERATION. 
THE  MISCHIEF  OF  MONICA 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  15  EAST  16th  STKEET,  NEW  YOKE. 


MONTEZUMA'S    DAUGHTER. 

BY  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  SHE,"  "  ALLAN  QUATERMA1N,"  "  NADA  THE  LILY,"  ETC. 


With  24-  full-page  Illustrations  and  Vignette  by  Maurice 
Greiffenhagen.      Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.OO. 

"  Adventures  that  stir  the  reader's  blood  and,  like  magic  spells,  hold  his  attention  with 
power  so  strong  that  only  the  completion  of  the  novel  can  satisfy  his  interest.  ...  In 
this  novel  the  motive  of  revenge  is  treated  with  a  subtle  power  .  .  .  this  latest  production 
of  Mr.  Haggard  blends  with  the  instruction  of  the  historical  novel  the  charm  of  a  splendid 
romance.'' — PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"Mr.  Haggard  has  done  nothing  better  .  .  .  it  may  well  be  doubted  if  he  has  ever 
done  anything  half  so  good.  The  tale  is  one  of  the  good,  old-fashioned  sort,  filled  with  the 
elements  of  romance  and  adventure,  and  it  moves  on  from  one  thrilling  situation  to  another 
with  a  celerity  and  verisimilitude  that  positively  fascinate  the  reader.  .  .  .  The  story  is- 
told  with  astonishing  variety  of  detail,  and  in  its  mam  lines  keeps  close  to  historical  truth. 
The  author  has  evidently  written  with  enthusiasm  and  entire  love  of  his  theme,  and  the  result 
is  a  really  splendid  piece  of  romantic  literature.  The  illustrations,  by  Maurice  Greiffenhagen, 
are  admirable  in  spirit  and  technique." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  Has  a  good  deal  of  the  quality  that  lent  such  interest  to  '  King  Solomon's  Mines  '  and 
'Allan  Quatermain.'  .  .  .  England,  Spain,  and  the  country  which  is  now  Mexico  afford 
trie  field  of  the  story,  and  a  great  number  of  most  romantic  and  blood-stirring  activities  occur 
in  each  ...  a  successful  story  well  constructed,  full  of  devious  and  exciting  action, 
and  we  believe  that  it  will  find  a  multitude  of  appreciative  readers." — SUN,  N.  Y. 

'  It  is  a  tale  of  adventur?  and  romance,  with  a  fine  historical  setting  and  with  a  vivid 
reproduction  of  the  manners  and  people  of  the  age.  The  plot  is  handled  with  dexterity  and 
skill,  and  the  reader's  interest  is  always  seen.  There  is,  it  should  also  be  noted,  nothing  like 
vulgar  sensationalism  in  the  treatment,  and  the  literary  quality  is  sound  throughout. 

Among  the  very  best  stories  of  love,  war,  and  romance  that  have  been  written." 

— THE  OUTLOOK. 

"  Is  the  latest  and  best  of  that  popular  writer's  works  of  fiction.  It  enters  a  new 
field  not  befure  touched  by  previous  tales  from  the  same  author.  In  its  splendor  of  descrip- 
tion, weirdness  of  imagery,  and  wealth  of  startling  incidents  it  rivals  '  King  Solomon's  Mines ' 
and  other  earlier  stories,  but  shows  superior  strength  in  many  respects,  and  presents  novelty 
of  scene  that  must  win  new  and  more  enduring  fame  for  its  talented  creator.  .  .  .  The 
analysis  of  human  motives  and  emotions  is  more  subtle  in  this  work  than  in  any  previous, 
production  by  Mr.  Haggard.  The  story  will  generally  be  accorded  highest  literary  rank 
among  the  author's  works,  and  will  prove  of  fascinating  interest  to  a  host  of  readers." 

— MINNEAPOLIS  SPECTATOR. 

"  Is  full  of  the  magnificence  of  the  Aztec  reign,  and  is  quite  as  romantic  and  unbelievable 
as  the  most  fantastic  of  his  earlier  creations." — BOOK  BUYER. 

"We  should  be  disposed  to  rank  this  volume  next  to  'King  Solomon's  Mines'  in  order 
of  interest  and  merit  among  the  author's  works." — LITERARY  WORLD,  BOSTON. 

"  It  is  decidedly  the  most  powerful  and  enjoyable  book  that  Mr.  Rider  Haggard  has 
written,  with  the  single  exception  of  '  Jess.'  " — ACADEMY. 

"  Mr.  Haggard  has  rarely  done  anything  better  than  this  romantic  and  interesting  narra- 
tive. Throughout  the  story  we  are  hurried  from  one  thrilling  experience  to  another,  and  the 
whole  book  is  written  at  a  level  of  sustained  passion,  which  gives  it  a  very  absorbing  hold  on 
our  imagination.  A  special  word  of  praise  ought  to  be  given  to  the  excellent  illustrations." 

— DAILY  TELEGRAPH. 

"  Perhaps  the  best  01  all  the  author's  stones. 

The  great  distinguishing  quality  of  Rider  Haggard  is  this  magic  power  of  seizing  and 
holding  his  readers  so  that  they  become  absorbed  and  abstracted  from  all  earthly  things  while 
their  eyes  devour  the  page.  ...  A  romance  must  have 'grip.'  .  .  .  This  romance 
possesses  the  quality  of  'grip'  in  an  eminent  degree." — WALTER  BESANT  in  the  AUTHOR. 

"The  story  is  both  graphic  and  exciting,  .  .  .  and  tells  of  the  invasion  of  Cortes  ; 
but  there  are  antecedent  passages  in  England  and  Spain,  for  the  hero  is  an  English  adven- 
turer who  finds  his  way  through  Spain  to  Mexico  on  a  vengeful  quest.  The  vengeance  is  cer- 
tainly satisfactory,  but  it  is  not  reached  until  the  hero  has  had  as  surprising  a  series  of  peril* 
and  escapes  as  even  the  fertile  imagination  of  the  author  ever  devised." — DIAL,  CHICAGO. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  15  EAST  16th  STEEET,  NEW  YOEK, 


WHAT    NECESSITY    KNOWS, 

A  Novel  of  Canadian  Life  and  Character, 
BY  MISS   L.    DOUGALL, 

AUTHOR   OF   "  BEGGARS   ALL." 


Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.OO. 

•'•  A  very  remarkable  novel,  and  not  a  book  that  can  be  lightly  classified  or  ranged  with 
other  modern  works  of  fiction.  .  .  .  It  is  a  distinct  creation  ...  a  structure  of 
noble  and  original  design  and  of  grand  and  dignified  conception.  .  .  .  The  book  bristles 
with  epigrammatic  sayings  which  one  would  like  to  remember.  ...  It  will  appeal 
strongly  by  force  of  its  originality  and  depth  of  insight  and  for  the  eloquence  and  dignity  of 
style  in  the  descriptive  passages." — MANCHESTER  GUARDIAN,  LONDON. 

"  We  think  we  are  well  within  the  mark  in  saying  that  this  novel  is  one  of  the  three  or 
four  best  novels  of  the  year.  The  social  atmosphere  as  well  as  the  external  conditions  of 
Canadian  life  are  reproduced  faithfully.  The  author  is  eminently  thoughtful,  yet  the  story 
is  not  distinctively  one  of  moral  purpose.  The  play  of  character  and  the  clash  of  purpose  are 
finely  wrought  out.  .  .  .  What  gives  the  book  its  highest  value  is  really  the  author's 
deep  knowledee  of  motive  and  character.  The  reader  continually  comes  across  keen  obser- 
vations and  subtle  expressions  that  not  infrequently  recall  George  Eliot.  The  novel  is  one 
that  is  worth  reading  a  second  time."— OUTLOOK,  NEW  YORK. 

"  Keen  analysis.  d»ei>  spiritual  insight,  and  a  quick  sense  of  beauty  in  nature  and 
human  nature  are  combined  to  put  before  us  a  drama  of  human  life  .  .  .  the  book  is  not 
only  interesting;  but  stimulating,  not  only  strong  but  suggestive,  and  we  may  say  of  the 
writer,  in  Sidney  Lanier's  wcrds,  'She  shows  man  what  he  may  be  in  terms  of  what  he  is.'" 

— LITERARY  W  '*LD  BOSTOK. 

NADA   THE    LILY. 

BY  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  SHE,"   "  ALLAN  QUATERMAIN,"  ETC. 

With    23  full-page    Illustrations,   by   C.  H.  M.  Kerr. 
1  2mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental  (Copyright),  $1.OO. 

"  A  thrilling  book  full  .  .  .  of  almost  incredible  instances  of  personal  daring  and  of 
<vonderful  revenge.  .  .  .  The  many  vigorous  illustrations  add  much  to  the  interest  of  a 
book  that  may  safely  be  denominated  as  Mr.  Haggard's  most  successful  venture  in  the 
writing  of  fiction." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  The  story  of  '  Nada  the  Lily '  is  full  of  action  and  adventure ;  the  plot  is  cleverly 
•vrought  and  the  fighting  and  adventure  are  described  with  spirit.  Once  begun  it  is,  indeed, 
A  story  to  be  finished." — N.  Y.  TRIBUNE. 

"  The  story  is  a  magnificent  effort  of  the  imagination  and  quite  the  best  of  all  that  Mr, 
Haggard  has  done.  There  is  no  example  of  manufactured  miracle  in  this  story,  for  the  story 
of  the  Ghost  mountain,  the  Stone  Witch,  and  the  Wolves  is  nothing  but  the  folk-lore  of  the 
African  tribes,  and  in  no  respect  similar  to  the  wonders  which  the  author  introduced  into 
the  stories  in  which  Allan  Quatermain  figures." — SPRINGFIELD  REPUBLICAN. 

"To  my  mind  the  realization  of  savage  existence  and  the  spirit  of  it  have  never  been  so 
honestly  and  accurately  set  forth.  The  Indians  of  Chateaubriand,  and  even  of  Cooper,  are 
conventional  compared  with  these  blood-thirsty,  loyal,  and  fatalistic  Zulus.  .  .  .  The 
whole  legend  seems  to  me  to  be  a  curiously  veracious  reproduction  of  Zulu  life  and  character." 

— Mr.  ANDREW  LANG  in  the  New  Review. 

"  Rider  Haggard's  latest  story  .  .  .  has  a  more  permanent  value  than  anything 
this  prolific  author  has  previously  given  to  the  public.  He  has  preserved  in  this  latest 
romance  many  of  the  curious  tales,  traditions,  superstitions,  the  wonderful  folk-lore  of  s 
nation  now  extinct,  a  people  rapidly  melting  away  before  an  advancing  tide  of  civilization. 
The  romance  into  which  Mr.  Haggard  has  woven  valuable  material  is  in  his  own  inimitable 
style,  and  will  delight  those  who  love  the  weirdly  improbable." — BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  15  EAST  16th  STEEETV  NEW  YOKE. 


MICAH   CLARKE. 

His  statement  as  made  to  his  three  Grandchildren,  Joseph,  Gervas,  a.nd 
Reuben,  during  the  hard  Winter  of  1734. 

BY  A.   CONAN   DOYLE, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  POLE-STAR,"  "THE  REFUGEES,"  ETC. 


Author's  Edition.    Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"  The  language  has  the  quaintness  of  old  times,  and  the  descriptions  are  so  vivid  and 
home-like  as  to  make  us  feel  that  we  are  listening  to  them  ourselves  ;  indeed,  the  story  stands 
very  high  among  historical  novels,  and  will  be  of  great  interest  to  any  one  who  has  followed 
the  more  critical  setting  forth  of  the  troubles  preceding  the  Restoration  found  in  the  regular 
histories.  The  author  has  succeeded  in  giving  us  the  genuine  flavor  of  former  days.'1 

— PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"...    There  is  a  great  deal  of  vivid,  thrilling  description.'' — THE  NATION. 

"  Wonderfully  vivid  and  realistic,  full  of  the  color  of  the  time,  and  characterized  by  re- 
markable power,  .  .  .  there  are  so  many  pieces  of  excellent  workmanship  in  'Micah 
Clarke'  that  it  would  take  too  long  to  name  them." — N.  Y.  TKIBUNB. 

"  We  make  bold  to  say  that  .  .  .  this  story  of  Mr.  Doyle's  is  easily  the  best  exam- 
ple of  the  class  of  fiction  to  which  it  belongs  of  the  year.  Two  descriptions  of  battles  in 
this  story  are,  it  seems  to  us,  among  the  most  brilliant  and  spirited  bits  of  writing  we  have 
lately  had.  But  it  is  not  merely  two  or  three  striking  incidents,  but  the  maintained  interest 
of  the  entire  tale,  that  leads  us  to  give  it  such  praise  as  we  have  risked  above.  We  shall 
look  with  interest  for  a  second  story  from  Mr.  Doyle's  pen."— CHRISTIAN  UNION. 

"  It  is  due  to  the  dramatic  power  of  the  author  that  this  story  becomes  so  absorbing. 
There  is  quickness  and  vivacity  in  it,  and  the  story  of  the  soldier  of  fortune  of  that  day, 
Saxon,  who  has  acquired  this  military  art  in  Germany,  is  capitally  told.  .  .  •  Mr. 
Doyle  never  pauses,  and  so  the  reader  can  go  at  full  gallop  through  the  story." — N.  Y.  TIMES. 


THE   CAPTAIN   OF   THE   POLE-STAR: 

And  Other  Tales. 

BY  A.   CONAN   DOYLE. 


Crown    8vo,    cloth,    $1.25. 

"  Lovers  of  wild  adventure,  of  brilliant  satire,  of  quiet  pathos,  will  all  find  wherewith  to 
be  content  in  the  little  book,  which,  in  its  variety  of  subject  and  treatment,  reads  more  like  a 
volume  of  stories  from  Maga  than  a  collection  of  tales  from  one  of  the  same  pen." 

— ATHENAEUM,  London. 

"  This  volume  of  short  stories  proves  Mr.  Doyle  to  be  an  expert  of  the  most  delightful 
and  skillfull  kind  in  tales  of  mystery,  imagination,  and  fancy.  .  .  .  The  book  forms  a 
most  delightful  addition  to  the  too  poor  literature  of  good  short  stories." 

— SCOTSMAN  ATHENAEUM. 

"  All  the  stories  will  repay  careful  reading,  as  in  addition  to  the  interest  of  the  plots 
the  style  is  singularly  varied  and  reveals  as  many  devices  of  the  literary  artist  as  that  of 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson.'' — SAN  FRANCISCO  CHRONICLE. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  00.,  15  EAST  16th  STREET,  NEW  TURK. 


"CAN  THIS   BE   LOVE? 

A    NOVEL. 

BY  MRS.  PARR, 

AUTHOR  OF    "  DOROTHY   FOX,"    "ADAM    AND  EVE,"   ETC. 


With   Frontispiece  and  Vignette  by   Charles   Kerr. 
12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  A  wholesome  tale.  .  .  .  It  is  a  pleasant  story,  delightfully  told,  and  with  a  whole- 
some English  atmosphere." — BOOK  BUYER,  N.  Y. 

"  This  is  a  story  that  will  repay  the  time  spent  over  it.  Mrs.  Parr  is  a  strong  and  inter- 
esting writer.  Her  characters  are  live  characters,  and  the  incidents  through  which  they 
move  are  natural  and  realistic.  Her  present  story  is  throughout  an  exceptionally  interesting 
one,  and  the  reader  will  find  his  interest  in  it  kept  up  to  the  end.  It  is  handsomely  printed 
on  good  paper." — CHRISTIAN  AT  WORK,  N.  Y. 

"The  touches  of  humor  .  .  .  are  pleasant;  the  descriptions  of  scenery  are  charm- 
ing :  the  plot  is  well  and  artistically  planned  and  executed  ;  but,  best  of  all,  the  whole  tone  of 
the  book  is  pure  and  free  from  morbidness,  and  one  can  read  it  from  cover  to  cover  without 
finding  the  taint  of  vulgarity  and  super-emotionalism  (to  call  it  by  the  most  polite  name) 
which  degrades  so  much  of  modern  fiction." — LITERARY  WORLD,  Boston. 

"  It  is  a  love  story  of  more  than  usual  interest  and  is  well  worth  reading.  .  .  .  The 
three  principal  persons  in  the  book  are  fine  character  studies,  and  the  story  is  strong  and 
interesting." — ADVERTISER,  Portland,  Me. 

"  Mrs.  Parr  has  given  us  an  altogether  charming  book." — TRAVELLER,  Boston. 

"  One  of  the  daintiest,  most  homelike  and  natural  stories,  of  the  week  .  .  .  the  girl 
is  a  downright,  genuine,  substantial  girl,  like  the  girls  we  know  in  the  world  and  love." 

— COMMERCIAL  GAZETTE,  Cincinnati. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF, 

A   ROMANCE. 
BY  STANLEY   J.   WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR   OF    "  A   GENTLEMAN   OF  FRANCE,"   ETC. 


With   Frontispiece  and  Vignette   by   Charles   Kerr. 
12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


K  live.  — CRITIC,  i>.  Y. 

"  Recounted  as  by  an  eye  witness  in  a  forceful  way  with  a  rapid  and  graphic  style  that 
imands  interest  and  admiration. 

Of  the  half  dozen  stories  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Eve  which  we  have  read  this  ranks  first 
rividness,  delicacy  of  perception,  reserve  power,  and  high  principle." 


— COMMERCIAL  ADVERTISER,  N.  Y. 


LONGMANS,  GKEEN,  &  00.,  15  EAST  16th  STREET,  NEW  YOEK. 


THE  ONE  GOOD   GUEST. 

A   NOVEL. 

BY  L.  B.  WALFORD, 

AUTHOR  OF   **  MR.  SMITH,"  "  THE   BABY'S   GRANDMOTHER,"  ETC.,  ETC. 

12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.OO. 

"  It  is  a  delightful  picture  of  life  at  an  English  estate,  which  is  presided  over  by  a  young 
'  Squire'  and  his  young  sister.  Their  experiences  are  cleverly  told,  and  the  complications 
which  arise  are  amusing  and  interesting.  There  are  many  humorous  touches,  too,  which 
add  no  slight  strength  to  the  story." — BOSTON  TIMES. 

"  A  charming  little  social  comedy,  permeated  with  a  refinement  of  spontaneous  humor 
and  brilliant  with  touches  of  shrewd  and  searching  satire." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  The  story  is  bright,  amusing,  full  of  interest  and  incident,  and  the  characters  are  ad- 
mirably drawn.  Every  reader  will  recognize  a.  friend  or  acquaintance  in  some  of  the  people 
here  portrayed.  Every  one  will  wish  he  could  have  been  a  guest  at  Duckhill  Manor,  and 
will  hope  that  the  author  has  more  stories  to  tell." — PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"  A  naturaj,  amusing,  kindly  tale,  told  with  great  skill.  The  characters  are  delightfully 
human,  the  individuality  well  caught  and  preserved,  the  quaint  humor  lightens  every  page, 
and  a  simple  delicacy  and  tenderness  complete  an  excellent  specimen  of  story  telling." 

— PROVIDENCE  JOURNAL. 

"  For  neat  little  excursions  into  English  social  life,  and  that  of  the  best,  commend  us  to 
the  writer  of  'The  One  Good  Guest.' "— N.  Y.  TIMES. 

"The  story  is  bright,  amusins,  full  of  interest  and  incident,  and  the  characters  are  ad- 
mirably drawn.  Every  reader  will  recognize  a  friend  or  acquaintance  in  some  of  the  people 
here  portrayed.  Every  one  will  wish  he  could  have  been  a  guest  at  Duckhill  Manor,  and 
will  hope  that  the  author  has  more  stories  to  tell." — PORTLAND  OREGONIAN. 


BEGGARS    ALL. 

A  NOVEL. 

BY  MISS  L.  DQUGALL. 
Sixth  Edition.      12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.OO. 

"This  is  one  of  the  strongest  as  well  as  most  original  romances  of  the  year.  .  .  .  The 
plot  is  extraordinary.  .  .  .  The  close  of  the  story  is  powerful  and  natural.  ...  A 
masterpiece  of  restrained  and  legitimate  dramatic  fiction." — LITERARY  WORLD. 

"To  say  that  '  Beggars  All'  is  a  remarkable  novel  is  to  put  the  case  mildly  indeed,  for 
it  is  one  of  the  most  original,  discerning,  and  thoroughly  philosophical  presentations  of 
character  that  has  appeared  in  English  for  many  a  day.  .  .  .  Emphatically  a  novel 
that  thoughtful  people  ought  to  read  .  .  .  the  perusal  of  it  will  by  many  be  reckoned 
among  the  intellectual  experiences  that  are  not  easily  forgotten." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  A  story  of  thrilling  interest." — HOME  JOURNAL. 

"  A  very  unusual  quality  of  novel.  It  is  written  with  ability  :  it  tells  a  strong  story  with 
elaborate  analysis  of  character  and  motive  .  .  .  it  is  of  decided  interest  and  worth 
reading." — COMMERCIAL  ADVERTISER,  N.  Y. 

"  It  is  more  than  a  story  for  mere  summer  reading,  but  deserves  a  permanent  place 
among  the  best  works  of  modern  fiction.  The  author  has  struck  a  vein  of  originality  purely 
her  own.  .  .  .  It  is  tragic,  pathetic,  humerous  by  turns.  .  .  .  Miss  Dougall  has,  in 
fact,  scored  a  great  success.  Her  book  is  artistic,  realistic,  intensely  dramatic — in  fact,  one 
of  the  novels  of  the  year." — BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 

"  'Beggars  All '  is  a  noble  work  of  art,  but  is  also  something  more  and  something  better. 
It  IK  a  book  with  a  soul  in  it,  and  in  a  sense,  therefore,  it  may  be  described  as  an  inspired 
work.  The  inspiration  of  genius  may  or  may  not  be  lacking  to  it,  but  the  inspiration  of  a 
pure  and  beautiful  spirituality  pervades  it  completely  .  .  .  the  characters  are  truth- 
fully and  powerfully  drawn,  the  situations  finely  imagined,  and  the  story  profoundly 
interesting." — CHICAGO  TRIBUNE. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  15  EAST  16th  STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


MAJOR     JOSHUA 

A   NOVEL. 
BY   FRANCIS    FORSTER. 


1  2mo,  Cloth,  $1.OO. 


"  In  '  Major  Joshua '  Mr.  Francis  Forster  has  brought  before  us  one  of  the  most 
curious  and  interesting,  though  certainly  not  one  of  the  most  admirable,  characters  in 
recent  fiction.  .  .  .  One  can  scarcely  believe  that  such  an  excellent  story  as  '  Major 
Joshua  '  is  a  first  effort." — DUNDEE  ADVERTISER. 

"  We  have  rarely  met  a  novel  by  a  new  hand  which  is  written  with  such  careful 
restraint,  and  which  in  a  comparatively  short  compass  is  so  full  of  meaning.  There  is 
humor  in  it  also,  and  a  vein  of  satire  which  is  not  too  serious  to  be  entertaining." 

— WESTMINSTER  GAZETTE. 

"The  charm  of  the  book,  however,  is  largely  in  the  unique  character  of  Major 
Joshua,  whose  name  is  Robinson.  He  is  a  person  whose  chief  business  is  to  attend  to 
other  people's  business.  An  imperturbable  old  busybody  who  looks  upon  matrimony 
as  a  huge  joke,  he  makes  a  tremendous  amount  of  mischief,  but  always  in  a  grimly 
humorous  sort  of  way." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  Major  Joshua  Robinson  is  a  new  character  in  literature.  .  .  .  He  can  hardly 
be  called  the  hero  of  Francis  Forster's  new  novel,  since  he  is  not  of  the  stuff  of  which 
heroes  are  made ;  but  the  author  makes  him  the  prominent  figure  in  a  very  delightful 
story."— BOSTON  ADVERTISER. 

"  It  is  more  interesting  than  nine-tenths  of  the  novels  now  written,  since  it  deals 
with  unusual  but  not  unnatural  people  and  analyzes  their  motives  and  emotions  in  a 
remarkably  clever  way.  .  .  .  Mr.  Forster  has  written  a  book  which  people  will 
think  about." — DETROIT  PRESS. 


DAVID'S  LOOM. 


A  STORY  OF  ROCHDALE  LIFE  IN  THE  EARLY  YEARS  OF 

THE  NINETEENTH   CENTURY. 

BY  JOHN   TRAFFORD    CLEGG  (Th'  Owd  Weighver), 
AUTHOR  OF  "HEART  STRINGS,"  "PIECES  IN  ROCHDALE  DIALECT,"  ETC. 


Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $  1  .OO. 


"This  is  a  very  remarkable  book  in  many  ways.  For  one  thing  it  is  a  triumph  in  ver- 
nacular ;  for  another  it  is  a  very  successful  experiment  in  a  hitherto  untried  and  apparently 
unpromising  field  of  historical  fiction.  It  gives  us  Rochdale  life  and  dialect,  tragedy  and 
comedy  in  the  early  part  of  the  present  century  .  .  .  altogether  '  David's  Loom  '  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  and  artistically  satisfactory  romances  of  the  historical  kind  that  have 
been  published  for  a  long  time." — SPECTATOR.  LONDON. 

"  The  story  is  a  tragic  one,  and  powerful  as  such,  while  its  humorous  passages  in  the 
Lancashire  dialect  are  by  far  its  best  parts.  .  .  .  It  is  a  deeply  interesting  story,  and 
has  real  literary  merit"— SCOTSMAN. 

"  A  thrilling  story.  .  .  .  The  narrative  never  flags  in  interest  from  the  opening  to 
the  concluding  pages."— DAILY  TELEGRAPH. 


LONGMANS,  GKEEN,  &  CO.,  15  EAST  16th  STEEET,  NEW  YORK 


KEITH    DERAMORE. 

A    NOVEL. 

By  the  Author  of  "  Miss  Molly." 

Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.OO. 

"  One  of  the  strongest  novels  for  the  year.  .  .  .  A  book  of  absorbing  and  sustained 
Interest,  full  of  those  touches  of  pathos,  gusts  of  passion,  and  quick  glimpses  into  the  very 
hearts  of  men  and  women  which  are  a  necessary  equipment  of  any  great  writer  of  fiction." 

— STAR. 

"  A  story  with  originality  of  plot  and  a  number  of  interesting  and  skillfully  drawn  char- 
acters. .  .  .  Well  worthy  of  a  careful  perusal." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

"  The  few  important  characters  introduced  are  very  clearly  and  well  drawn  ;  one  is  a 
quite  unusual  type  and  reveals  a  good  deal  of  power  in  the  author.  It  is  a  live  story  of 
more  than  ordinary  interest." — REVIEW  OF  REVIEWS. 

"A  novel  of  quiet  but  distinct  force  and  of  marked  refinement  in  manner.  The  few 
characters  in  '  Keith  Deramore'  are  clearly  and  delicately  drawn,  and  the  slight  plot  is  well 
sustained." — CHRISTIAN  UNION. 

"  The  author  of  'Miss  Molly'  shall  have  her  reward  in  the  reception  of  'Keith  Dera- 
more.' If  it  is  not  popular  there  is  no  value  in  prophecy.'' — SPRINGFIELD  REPUBLICAN. 

"The  story  is  strong  and  interesting,  worthy  of  a  high  place  in  fiction." 

— PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"  Its  development  can  be  followed  with  great  interest.  It  is  well  written  and  entertain- 
ing throughout." — THE  CRITIC. 

"  An  exceptionally  interesting  novel.    It  is  an  admirable  addition  to  an  admirable  series." 

— BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 

"  It  contains  character-drawing  which  places  it  much  above  the  average  love  story,  and 
makes  the  reading  of  it  worth  while.  It  is  a  fine  study  of  a  normally-selfish  man.  There  is 
humor  in  it,  and  sustained  interest." — BUFFALO  EXPRESS. 


A  MORAL  DILEMMA, 

BY    ANNIE     M.     THOMPSON. 


Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $  1  .OO. 


"  We  have  in  this  most  delightful  volume  ...  a  new  novel  by  a  new  author.  The 
fille  is  happily  chosen,  the  plot  is  thrillingly  interesting,  its  development  is  unusually  artistic, 
the  style  is  exceptionally  pure,  the  descriptions  are  graphic.  In  short  we  have  one  of  the 
best  of  recent  novels,  and  the  author  gives  great  promise." — BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 

"  A  novel  of  rare  beauty  and  absorbing  interest.  Its  plot,  which  is  constructed  with 
great  skill,  is  decidedly  unconventional  in  its  development,  and  its  denouement,  although 
unanticipated  until  near  its  climax,  really  comes  as  an  agreeable  surprise.  .  .  .  As  a 
literary  work,  'A  Moral  Dilemma'  will  take  high  rank.'' — BOSTON  HOME  JOURNAL. 

"The  story  is  well  written  and  gives  promise  of  the  development  of  a  writer  who  will 
take  place  among  the  ranks  of  those  of  her  sex  who  are  supplying  what  is  much  needed  at 
this  time — entertaining,  wholesome  literature." — YALE  COURANT. 

"The  author  writes  with  vigor  and  earnestness,  and  the  book  is  one  of  interest  and 
power." — PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"The  story  is  strongly  told."—  INDEPENDENT. 

"  A  strong  story  which  leaves  the  reader  better  for  the  perusal.  A  touchlight,  as 
Barrie's  carries  one  through  the  successive  scenes,  which  are  fraught  with  deep  interest." 

— PUBLIC  LEDGER. 

LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  00.,  15  EAST  16th  STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


THE  UNBIDDEN  GUEST. 

BY  E.  W.  HORNUNG, 

AUTHOR  OF  "TINY  LUTTRELL,"  "A  BRIDE  FROM  THE  BUSH,"  ETC. 


With   Frontispiece  and  Vignette.     Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.OO. 


"...  the  heroism  in  this  romance  at  once  excites  your  curiosity.  .  .  .  Mr. 
Hornung  has  the  exact  qualities  of  the  story  teller.  You  delight  in  being  fooled,  and  the 
author  fools  you  to  the  top  of  your  bent.  .  .  .  'The  Unbidden  Guest '  is  a  remarkable 
story,  replete  with  pathos,  and  though  there  is  plenty  of  fun  in  it  the  dramatic  effects  are  the 
more  conspicuous.  It  is  only  a  writer  of  exceeding  talent  who  could  work  up  a  heroine  like 
Missy  and  make  you  not  only  forgive  but  like  her." — NEW  YORK  TIMES. 

"A  tale  of  Australia  with  a  plot  which  is  not  in  the  least  trite,  and  a  heroine  quite  of  the 
unusual  order.  .  .  .  The  story  is  well  told.'' — PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"A  strong  and  clever  story." — THE  WORLD,  N.  Y. 

'"  The  Unbidden  Guest'  is  bold  in  conception  and  tender  in  treatment.  .  .  .  Mr. 
Hornun.er  has  written  quite  a  little  gem  of  romantic  fiction,  thoroughly  Australian  in  setting, 
thoroughly  natural,  if  a  little  improbable,  perfectly  illusive,  both  as  to  character  and  as  to 
incidents,  and  at  least  as  pathe-tic  in  its  situations  as  'A  Bride  from  the  Bush.'  .  .  . 
Many  will  be  disposed  to  think  it  the  best  story  which  its  author  has  produced." 

— ANTHEN^BUM. 

THE    NEW    EDEN. 

A   STORY. 
BY  C.  J.  CUTLIFFE  HYNE. 

With  Frontispiece  and  Vignette. 
Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $  1  .OO. 

"  One  of  the  most  peculiar  stories  of  the  fall.  .  .  .  The  tale  unfolded  is  very  ingen- 
ious, interesting,  and  well  written.  It  is  imaginative  decidedly. 

The  way  these  untutored  human  beings  act  upon  meeting,  and  afterwards,  is  told  with 
great  dexterity,  and  primitive  human  nature  is  revealed  in  many  aspects.  The  mental  un- 
foldings  resulting  from  their  experiences  and  surroundings  are  decidedly  interesting,  and 
the  descriptions  of  scenery  are  brilliant  .  .  .  fascinating  reading,  is  charmingly  idyllic, 
and  above  all  is  original  from  cover  to  cover." — BOSTON  TIMES. 

"A  cleverly  written  story.  .  .  .  The  masculine  traits  of  Adam  and  the  feminine 
traits  of  Eve,  inherent  in  both,  are  wrought  out  with  skill  and  naturalness,  and  the  whole 
makes  an  unusually  interesting  study  and  is  also  analogy  from  which  many  interesting  con- 
clusions can  be  drawn."— HARTFORD  TIMES. 

"The  book  is  an  excellent  piece  of  purely  imaginative  writing,  and  is  wholly  original  in 
its  conception." — PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"  Something  in  a  new  vein.  It  ought  to  make  a  sensation,  and  we  hazard  nothing  in 
saying  that  it  will  sometime  run  through  many  editions.  We  have  here  the  best  work  of  a 
brilliant  author." — BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 

"A  book  that  is  likely  to  arouse  no  little  animated  comment.  .  .  .  His  chronicle  of 
the  experiences  of  a  modern  Adam  and  Eve  is  full  of  entertainment  as  well  as  of  wisdom. 
.  .  .  The  tale  has  obviously  more  than  one  meaning,  and  it  is  carried  out  with  so  much 
vivacity  and  verisimilitude  that  it  cannot  fail  to  excite  a  very  decided  interest." 

— THE  BEACON,  Boston. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  00,,  15  EAST  16tli  STEEET,  NEW  YOEK. 


THE    PEOPLE    OF    THE    MIST. 

By  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR  OF   "  SHE,"  "  ALLAN  QUATBRMAIN,"  "  MONTEZUMA'S  DAUGHTER,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


With   16  full-page   Illustrations    by   Arthur  Layard.      Crown 
8vo,  cloth,  ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  Out  of  Africa,  as  all  men  know,  the  thing  that  is  new  is  ever  forthcoming.  The  old 
style  is  true  with  regard  to  Mr.  Haggard's  romances,  and  everybody  concerned  is  to  be  con- 
gratulated upon  the  romancer's  return  to  the  magical  country  where  lies  the  land  of  Kor. 
Africa  is  Mr.  Haggard's  heaven  of  invention.  Let  him  be  as  prodigal  as  he  may,  thence 
flows  an  exhaustless  stream  of  romance,  rich  in  wonders  new  and  astonishing.  '  The  People 
of  the  Mist  '  belongs  to  the  sphere  of  '  She '  in  its  imaginative  scope,  and,  as  an  example  of 
the  story-teller's  art,  must  be  reckoned  of  the  excellent  company  of  '  King  Solomon's 
Mines  '  and  its  brethren.  We  read  it  at  one  spell,  as  it  were,  hardly  resisting  that  effect  of 
fascination  which  invites  you,  at  the  critical  moments  of  the  story,  to  plunge  ahead  at  a 
venture  to  know  what  is  coming,  and  be  resolved  as  to  some  harrowing  doubt  of  dilemma. 
There  is  no  better  test  of  the  power  of  a  story  than  this.  .  .  ." — SATURDAY  REVIEW. 

"  The  lawyer,  the  physician,  the  business  man,  the  teacher,  find  in  these  novels,  teem- 
ing with  life  and  incident,  precisely  the  medicine  to  rest  tired  brains  and  '  to  take  them  out  of 
themselves.'  There  is,  perhaps,  no  writer  of  this  present  time  whose  works  are  read  more 
generally  and  wim  keener  pleasure.  The  mincing  words,  the  tedious  conversations,  the 
prolonged  agony  of  didactic  discussion,  characteristic  of  the  ordinary  novel  of  the  time,  find 
no  place  in  the  crisp,  bright,  vigorous  pages  of  Mr.  Haggard's  books.  .  .  .  '  The  People 
of  the  Mist '  is  what  we  expect  and  desire  from  the  pen  of  this  writer  ...  a  deeply 
interesting  novel,  a  fitting  companion  to  '  Allan  Quatermain.'  " — PUBLIC  OPINION. 

"  The  story  of  the  combat  between  the  dwarf  Otter  and  the  huge  '  snake,'  a  crocodile 
of  antediluvian  proportions,  and  the  following  account  of  the  escape  of  the  Outram  party, 
is  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  dramatic  fiction  which  Mr.  Haggard  has  ever  written." — BOS- 
TON ADVERTISER. 

"  One  of  his  most  ingenious  fabrications  of  marvellous  adventure,  and  so  skilfully  is  it 
done  that  the  reader  loses  sight  of  the  improbability  in  the  keen  interest  of  the  tale.  Two 
loving  and  beautiful  women  figure  in  the  narrative,  and  in  his  management  of  the  heroine 
and  her  rival  the  author  shows  his  originality  as  well  as  in  the  sensational  element  which  is 
his  peculiar  province." — BOSTON  BEACON. 

" '  The  People  of  the  Mist '  is  the  best  novel  he  has  written  since  '  She,'  and  it  runs 
that  famous  romance  very  close  indeed.  The  dwarf  Otier  is  fully  up  to  the  mark  of  Rider 
Haggard's  best  character,  and  his  fight  with  the  snake  god  is  as  powerful  as  anything  the 
author  has  written.  The  novel  abounds  in  striking  scenes  and  incidents,  and  the  read- 
er's interest  is  never  allowed  to  flag.  The  attack  on  the  slave  kraal  and  the  rescue  of  Juanna 
are  in  Mr.  Haggard's  best  vein." — CHARLESTON  NEWS. 

"  It  has  all  the  dash  and  go  of  Haggard's  other  tales  of  adventure,  and  few  readers  will 
be  troubled  over  the  impossible  things  in  the  story  as  they  follow  the  exciting  exploits  of  the 
hero  and  his  redoubtable  dwarf  Otter.  .  .  .  Otter  is  a  character  worthy  to  be  classed 
with  Umslopogus,  the  great  Zulu  warrior.  Haggard  has  never  imagined  anything  more  ter- 
ror-inspiring than  the  adventures  of  Leonard  and  his  party  in  the  awful  palace  of  the  Chil- 
dren of  Mist,  nor  has  he  ever  described  a  more  thrilling  combat  than  that  between  the  dwarf 
and  the  huge  water  snake  in  the  sacred  pool." — SAN  FRANCISCO  CHRONICLE. 

"  It  displays  all  of  this  popular  author's  imagery,  power  to  evoke  and  combine  miraculous 
incidents,  and  skill  in  analyzing  human  motives  and  emotions  in  the  most  striking  manner. 
He  is  not  surpassed  by  any  modern  writer  of  fiction  for  vividness  of  description  or  keenness 
of  perception  and  boldness  of  characterization.  The  reader  will  find  here  the  same  qualities 
in  full  measure  that  stamped  '  King  Solomon's  Mines,'  'Jess,'  '  She,'  and  his  other  earlier 
romances  with  their  singular  power.  The  narrative  is  a  series  of  scenes  and  pictures  ;  the 
events  are  strange  to  the  verge  of  ghoulishness  ;  the  action  of  the  story  is  tireless,  and  the 
reader  is  held  as  with  a  grip  not  to  be  shaken  off." — BOSTON  COURIER. 

"  Sometimes  we  are  reminded  of '  King  Solomon's  Mines '  and  sometimes  of  She,'  but  the 
mixture  has  the  same  elements  of  interest,  dwells  in  the  same  strange  land  of  mystery  and 
adventure,  and  appeals  to  the  same  public  that  buys  and  reads  Mr.  Haggard's  works  for  the 
sake  of  the  rapid  adventure,  the  strong  handling  of  improbable  incident,  and  the  fascination 
of  the  supernatural." — BALTIMORE  SUN. 


LONGMANS,  GKEEN,  &  CO.,  15  EAST  16th  STEEET.NEW  YOKK. 


DATE  DUE 


PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 


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